


Love Me, Baby

by Chidoriflower



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spider-man is an adult in this, m/m - Freeform, not Tom you know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-04 17:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11560014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chidoriflower/pseuds/Chidoriflower
Summary: Deadpool has a giant crush on Spider-man. Spidey has volunteered to help Wade with becoming a hero, all while knowing about his crush. Unconsciously Spidey questions his sexuality from time to time. There's also references to their other interactions in other media, so if you're a fan you might see it.





	1. Red Lemonade

The clouds have turned pink, like pink lemonade. The birds are fluttering home to their warm nests. The skyscrapers and other city buildings are casting their shadows down like metal giants, down on the busy streets. People scurry like so many ants. So many noises.

“I wish I could die. Screw everything.” a costumed man murmurs, “Now that would be bliss.” The man sits on the roof balcony of his apartment building. He watches below, while voices in his head buzz like the cars beneath him. 

“Can you guys ever shut up?” he hisses, with a slight smile. 

“I don’t know, can you?” a deep voice echoes in his brain in reply, “I’d shut up if you did.”

“I can shut y’all up!” the costumed man screeches. He pulls out his pistol and presses it against his temple. He almost pulls the trigger until a voice in his head echoes once again. 

“He’ll find your body. He’ll be disappointed in you, hurting yourself like this.” 

“Shut up,” he says, giggling. 

“He’ll be so upset.” 

The costumed man lowers the gun and puts it back in his holster. The voices continue, tauntingly. 

“You know he cares about you. You should be grateful he even talks to a freak like you, even after seeing your glorious visage. After seeing you impale that thug. Even after you confessed to him. You probably should find some way to kill yourse-”

“Please,” the man whispers, “shut up.” He blinks rapidly and to his surprise he feels moisture on his mask.

“I’m...crying?” he whimpers, touching his mask. “No way.”

“Yes way. You’re on your way to becoming a real life k-drama character.”

“Now if I only I had Lee Min-Ho’s hair,” the man murmurs. The man stands up on the balcony. Far below he hears yelling and horns going off. He squats and peers downwards. A few bicyclists have been run over. 

“I wonder if they died? Wish I could die. But not that boringly. I want to die explosively. In a dynamite chair. Or die of an extreme orgasm.”

“Quit kidding yourself.”  
“I’m an adult,” he says, springing onto his feet. 

“No. Stop distracting yourself.” 

“I’m not!” he whines, “I’m doing the right thing! I’m trying to forget about him! You know, get over the angst?” 

“We could listen to Taylor Swift and eat ice cream!” 

“We already did that…” 

“We need a distraction, something to get him out of my mind-” the man says out loud, “any distraction.” As if by a miracle, he hears a woman screaming. “Jackpot!” The man squeals happily. He jumps off the left side of the building and begins to run down the side of the building, breaking some windows and flowerpots. He spots a scrawny looking man and the screaming woman. The homeless man (or hipster, I don’t know which) is beating the woman senseless. Her nose looks broken. 

The costumed man- “Hey, hold on author! I didn’t introduce myself! The costumed man is none other than I, Deadpool, aka Merc with a mouth, aka national hot dog eating champion and avid fan of the Golden Girls! Check out my origin story! I was a humble little boy when one day I fell into a radioactive volcano, gifting me with immortality and irresistible looks. About now the author is losing meaning in her life so-” Ok, let’s get on with the story. 

The costumed man, Deadpool, lands ever so gracefully into a pile of trash. The skinny hipster (who looks about 60), stops hitting the woman to gawk at Deadpool. The old man starts trembling as Deadpool clumsily gets to his feet. 

“Hey baldy,” he says to the old man-thug, “I wouldn’t look up to Chris Brown if I was you.” The old man points a bony, shaking index finger at the mercenary. 

“S-S-Spiderman!” the man sputters. Deadpool stiffens. The name sucker punches D-p in the gut, more accurately his heart. Deadpool shakes his head violently, trying to shake off the voices. 

“Shut up!” he yells, drawing his katana. 

“W-what?” the old man sputters. He glances down at the beaten woman and back at Deadpool, confusion and fear lining his wrinkles. 

“You!” Deadpool barks, pointing a katana at the man, “shut the front door so help me Bob! Shut up!” 

“Who is Bob?” the old man shouts back. 

The voices were all saying different things, in different vocal ranges. The woman starts sobbing loudly, the old man won’t stop talking either. One of the voices repeats, chants: kill. Kill. Destroy. Kill. Do what you have to. Do it. Kill him. Kill the villain. Deadpool covers his ears but they only get louder. Kill. Do what you were made to do. He screams and can only see red, crimson blood. The voices stop and he blinks quickly, trying to blink out the red. 

Now the voices start to laugh, cold hollow laughs. Or is it the merc laughing? The old man’s body is on the ground, blood spilling from his neck. It’s everywhere. The woman lets out a shrill scream; it breaks through the noises in the merc’s head. His insane smile turns into a frown. 

“Such a nice and clean cut,” he says, kicking the old man’s head, “it’s a shame she doesn’t think so.” He pouts at the terrified woman. Her screaming gradually fades into loud sobs. 

“Y-you...killed him,” the woman says, her voice hoarse and strangled, “h-how?...in cold blood?”

With a flick of the wrist, Deadpool cleans his katana. “Yeah. I saved you!” he says, smiling. 

“He...he was my landlord,” the woman croaks, “you monster.” The woman begins to stand up, using the wall for support. Soon she was standing up straight, her fright slowly turning into anger.

“Jameson was right,” she says, “you are a sick menace. You’re not a hero, Spiderman, you’re just a masked vigilante. No one wants your help! This city doesn’t need you!” the woman says with a loud sob. 

“B-but I...I..he was hurting you!” the merc protests, taking a step towards her. 

“No!” she screams, “stay away!” 

“I was trying to help!” he roars, striding up to her. The woman backs up quickly, tripping on a box. She yelps in surprise and falls onto her bottom, looking up at Deadpool with big, frightened eyes. 

“Wade!” a stern, high-pitched voice says, “Wade, stop!” Deadpool’s insides turn to ice as he recognizes who the voice belongs to. He turns around slowly, with his hands in the air. Standing in front of him was the actual Spiderman. He is built like a gymnast, lean but muscular. His voice is sober, almost cold. 

“Hey, baby boy! Long time no see!” Wade says cheerfully, his hands still in the air. The woman lets out a gasp and faints. “You made Spidey look bad,” says a voice. “You did it again. You killed somebody.” “He was a bad person.” “Good point.”  
“I second that!” the merc shouts, throwing his katana in the air. Spiderman quickly grabs them with his webs. He holds both katana in one hand and silently glares at the merc. Wade can feel Spidey’s glare burning through his mask. 

“Wade..that was wrong and you know it,” Spiderman says, gazing furiously at the old man’s body. He looks back at Deadpool, angry as ever. “You said you wouldn’t do this again. After all that training..” he trails off and stares sullenly at the ground. 

Wade lets his hands drop at his sides. “Aw c’mon baby boy,” he chirps, “don’t be like that. You know how I is,” he chuckles mid sentence, “I’m a ma-hay jor fuck up.” He gestures sharply to his katana. “Can I get my toys back?” 

Spiderman shoots a venomous look at D-p, but then his expression seems to soften through his mask. He moves the katana from hand to hand, sighing thoughtfully. 

“You can have your swords back when you can go four weeks without killing someone,” the man-spider says, his voice still stern but much softer. He webs the katana together and straps them to his back. He looks around cautiously, then removes his mask. Spiderman has big brown eyes, like a baby deer’s. His dark brown hair is a mess, probably from it being in a mask for so long. His lean face is covered in sweat. His eyebrows become softer as he steadily stares at Deadpool. Deadpool lets out a low whistle, staring back at him. 

“Still as gorgeous as ever,” he says, smirking.

“Wade,” Spiderman says, walking up to him, “I’m disappointed in you.” He stops until there’s a few feet between them. 

It was always that one word. It was that look he hated the most. A mixture of pity, concern and sadness, written all over Spiderman’s face. Like Deadpool was some kind of disabled puppy. “Which isn’t entirely wrong,” a voice pops up, “disabled, yes...animalistic, yeah.” 

Wade coughs, then clears his throat comically. He whips out his gun and begins twirling it with two fingers, watching it. “You and the whole world, Spidey,” he says. 

The man-spider crosses his arms. “Are you going to give up then? Because I’m not giving up on you,” the web-clad hero says. 

Deadpool stops twirling the gun. “You think you can fix me? Save me? Got a Messiah complex alright,” he laughs, “comes in every Avenger’s cereal box.” Spiderman opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. He looks hurt.

“I want to help you,” he says, swallowing. 

It takes every fiber in Deadpool’s being to stop himself from hugging the younger man. Instead he stretches his aching arms and yawns. He’s so insistent about this. And so vulnerable looking.

“Listen, Spidey, I’ll continue with you helping me or whatever-” he makes weird hand motions, “but what if I go berserk and you become pork chop suey?” 

“We talked about this. If you do go berserk I have my trusty web-shooters,” the younger man says, pointing at his wrist. 

“Ooooh. Right,” Deadpool purrs, “I’d like to be tied up by your webs. Be warned, I make a lot of noise.” 

Spiderman’s ears go red. “I would stuff your face with web then!” he says, his voice getting a little more shrill. 

“Oh!” Deadpool lets out a girlish moan, “stuff me, Spidey!” 

Spidey’s face goes red. “Someone might hear. Be quiet,” he mumbles, ruffling his own hair bashfully. 

“Stuff me till I burst,” the merc squeaks, giggling. The voices want to say things of a more graphic nature but let’s keep it PG-13. 

The younger man puts his mask back on but with some difficulty. The katana on his back keep knocking on his elbows. He raises a finger as if to say something but Spiderman’s phone goes off. 

“Wait a second,” the younger man says. He pulls up his mask so only his lips are showing. Ah yes. 

“Take me now Jesus! His lips look so succulent. I want a lil taste!” Deadpool thinks, busying himself with hiding the old man’s body. He puts it in the trashcan, covering the body with loose cardboard. 

“He wouldn’t want to taste you, hermano,” a voice says. 

“Hello?” Spiderman says, “Oh hi. No, actually I am busy at the moment,” here he gives Deadpool a look, “so I’ll be a little late, sorry. I know, I know. I’ll make it up to you, sorry. Ah ok,” he says into the phone, “I’ll see you later. Love you. Bye.” The webbed hero hangs up and sighs heavily. 

“Who was that, baby boy?” Wade asks, phasing quickly next to Spiderman’s shoulder, making the man jump up a few inches.  
“N-no one!” yelps Spidey, facing Deadpool. Wade (who is Deadpool, but you probably already know) strokes his masked chin, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Your aunt?” Wade asks, rocking on the heels of his feet. After a few encounters at the Avenger HQ Deadpool had found out two things about Spiderman: 1. He had an aunt and 2. He was dirt poor. He found out after eavesdropping on Tony and Steve. Spiderman knew that Deadpool knew about those two things. Deadpool told him. “Too bad you didn’t catch Spidey’s real name,” a mournful voice says. “He threw you off a building.” 

“Good times, good times,” Deadpool whispers. 

Spiderman’s eyebrows shoot upward. “What was that?” he asks. 

“Oops said that out loud,” Wade says, out loud. “Shush.”

“It’s not my aunt,” the younger man says quietly. 

“Your...girly-friend?” Wade cocks his head to the side like a curious dog. Spiderman smiles a little. Bingo. Spidey puts his phone on his back and webs it on there. He leans back on a nearby wall. 

“What does she look like?” Wade asks. He hopes his mask is covering the brokenness in his voice. “It’s not, bro,” a voice echoes. The voices start shouting a myriad of thoughts. The merc shuts his eyes to stop an oncoming headache. 

The web-clad man looks away from Wade, gazing at a chink in the building opposite. “She um, she’s a brunette. She just moved from Spain with her parents,” he says, “her name is Arita.”

Wade feels a wave of nausea come over him. Spidey never mention this before. Last night..or the night before. Arita..what kind of name is Arita? Wade cackles. Sounds like dish detergent. 

Spiderman looks back at him in surprise. “What’s so fu-”

“Does she have big jugs?” Wade asks, still at Spidey’s shoulder. Deadpool giggles. “Do she?”

The hero snorts. “You know there’s more to a girl than her body,” Spiderman says, “size doesn’t matter either. A person should only be judged by what’s in the inside. The inside is what cou-”

“You must tell yourself this every night,” Wade interrupts, patting Spiderman’s shoulder, “poor tiny Spidey Jr.” Wade pats Spiderman’s thigh, tsking. 

“Hey!” the hero says, blushing and glaring at Wade; he scoots away, out of the other man’s reach. “No need to be rude,” he grumbles, red faced.  
The merc giggles and spins on his heel. He does a little sprint and jumps on a pile of boxes and trash. He squats and stares down at Spiderman. Spiderman crosses his arms and stares up at him. 

“Wade...meet me here tomorrow,” the hero says, clearing his throat casually, “so we can start again with your training.” 

“Oh..about that.” Wade raises his arms and does a Sailor Moon pose while talking, “I have something going on tomorrow!”

Spiderman puts his hand on his hip and sighs. “How about Friday?” he asks. 

“Nope. Movie night with Domino.”

“Saturday?”

“Nope.”

“Sunday?” the younger man asks, placing both hands on his hips. 

“No can do, baby boy,” Wade replies. 

“Well, when are you free?” the hero asks in frustration.

“I’ll be free when the planets eclipse the sun, causing the Earth to be thrown in a state of complete and utter darkness, only then will my curse be lifted and I will be free, but the freedom will come for a price-”

“Wade!” Spiderman snaps, “be serious!”

Deadpool giggles, “Why so serious?” he goes into a little giggling fit, making him topple from his perch, onto his butt. A banana peel lands on his head. He peels it off and looks up at Spidey. 

“I’m free on Friday. Domino will have to miss the awesome that is me,” Wade says, getting onto his feet. 

“Good. I’ll meet you here at six in the evening,” the hero says, looking around, “I can clean up the mess-” here he looks at the unconscious woman “-and then I’d like you to lay low for a while. No jobs, no answering phone calls from your bosses. If you feel caged in just call me and we can patrol the city.”

“A team up?!” Wade squeals excitedly. 

“It’s not a team up, it’s training,” Spiderman explains, “while we’re patrolling...IF we will...we can use it to help you become a hero, maybe.” The man-spider smiles. His mask is still half way showing his face. “Maybe you’ll learn how to use your powers responsibly,” he continues, smiling slightly, “and maybe, even, you could become an Avenger.”

“Whoa! Bro! Hold on!” Wade says, raising his arms in alarm, “Baby steps!”

“Well, judging from your progress, baby steps are the steps we have to take,” Spiderman murmurs. He smiles, showing pearly-white teeth. “Our-your first goal: securing criminals without killing them. The proposed deadline for dealing with this should be...uhm...two weeks,” the younger man says, grinning.

“Two weeks with Spidey! Heaven in a webbed suit!” squeals Deadpool. 

The hero pulls his mask down, covering all of his face. The voices complain loudly. Wade’s eyebrow twitches. The sun’s lingering rays had vanished. The moon is large and pearly looking. Spiderman taps his wrist, causing a watch to appear.

“Oh! I thought you broke that,” Wade says. 

“You did, doofus.” Spidey says, checking his watch, “it’s getting late. I’ll have to swing home. Arita’s probably fuming by now.” 

Wade’s heart sunk to his stomach. Either that or his breakfast was having a fight with his lunch. Ew. 

“Now don’t forget what I told you. No killing. And oh! No scaring people either!” Spiderman scolds. 

“Awww c’mon! You have to admit, seeing Thor destroy most of the Avengers HQ because of a toaster is funny! Coulson thought it was funny!” Deadpool protests, giggling a little.

“Yeah, well, you’re both nut jobs,” the man-spider says. He begins to climb up a wall. His phone starts ringing. Spiderman swears, trying to reach behind him. 

“Need a hand, baby boy?” Wade coos, striding up to him. Without waiting for a reply, Wade jumps up and snatches the phone. He crushes it in his hand as he lands on his feet. He’ll never notice the jealousy. 

“Hey!” Spiderman yells. He jumps off the wall, incredibly annoyed. 

“Oops, butter fingers,” the merc says, raising a hand to where his mouth is innocently. 

“How am I supposed to get a new one?” the man spider whines, staring forlornly at the bits of his cell phone on the ground.

“I can get you a new one!” Wade chirps happily. 

“No...please don’t,” Spidey grumbles, shooting a web from his wrist, which goes around a flagpole. 

“I have a shit ton of phones at my place,” the merc says, stretching his legs, “and a shit ton of other shit. I could shower you in Benjamins you know.”

“No, thank you,” the younger man says, preparing to swing away. He hesitates and looks over at the merc. “Wade...I..I’m sorry.”

The older man laughs halfheartedly. He knows he shouldn’t ask. He does it anyway, already knowing the answer. “Why?” 

“About last night. I’m sorry about the way I reacted. It was insensitive,” the man-spider says, “I hope it won’t make things awkward. I care about you and I value your friendship.” He holds onto his web loosely, facing Deadpool. 

For moments like these, the voices were unnaturally quiet. Or naturally. Wade felt like an invisible hand is squeezing his throat. Like the hand was trying to squeeze the tears out of his eyes. Forcing him to feel. He begins to realize the silence. The merc with a mouth didn’t know what to say. Spiderman is standing there, waiting for a response. 

Somewhere deep, deep, deep down in Wade’s heart he really does care about Spidey. The younger man had accepted Wade, scars and all. He promised to help him. If only his ass wasn’t so damn hot...if only he wasn’t, a thought or voice hisses. If only he could learn to be content with a few nibbles of friendship. But it’s madness. Something clicks in Deadpool’s brain. Douche-bag mode. 

“Maybe we can stroll over to Mamby Pambyville and help you grow a set,” Wade growls, slinking into the back of the alley, “you don’t have to be cheesy.” He laughs, without humor in his voice. “I’m like a pile of nachos. Must be why you’re so hot. I don’t know shit about apologies or whatever but I forgive you. I don’t know why you’re apologizing,” he cackles, sitting on a box. 

I don’t deserve that...apologies. What I need is some death, he thinks. The voices respond, making some suggestions on nacho casseroles. 

Spiderman holds onto the web tightly. “So...are we good then?” he asks. “Friends?”

“Sure, kiddo,” the merc says. He takes out his pistols and starts juggling them.  
“Wade..I-I,” the younger man stutters, turning back to the flagpole and playing with his web, “I wish I-” 

“Don’t want your girlfriend waiting for so long,” says Wade, putting his pistols back, “she’ll curse you with an ancient Spanish curse. I had a Spanish girlfriend a while back. I still have explosive diarrhea and impulses to salsa.” 

To his utter surprise, Spiderman laughs. It’s light and like church bells. Much like a shojo manga, the merc’s heartbeat begins to beat faster. We just hit another jackpot, a voice squeaks, we have to make him laugh. As much as possible. I love his laugh. It’s so adorable. 

“The salsa dancing might be useful, though,” Wade says, “it’s romantic in a way. It’s complete shit when you’re fighting. But then again I don’t think Tasky can dance.” Wade leans against the wall, smiling widely. 

“That will be handy,” says the younger man with a little laugh, “I’ll get going now.” Spiderman runs, holding onto his web; he shoots out another web from his wrist, and makes a steady trip down the busy road.

The merc sits on his box, thoughts and voices steadily gaining in volume. He shakes his head again. Puts his hands over his ears. Stands up. 

Face it, you’re stuck with us.

Like glue. Oh so cliche. 

So! He has a girlfriend! She has everything you don’t. She has parents, a vagina, and she has Spiderman. Good for her! I should congratulate her. 

Something starts to tick...like a bomb. But with words. Kill her. Kill Spiderman. Kill them. They’re in the way. Kill. Kill! 

“Shut up!” Deadpool roars, kicking a bag full of glass. It makes a satisfactory crashing sound but it isn’t loud enough. 

Of course he wouldn’t love you, a voice purrs, you’re just an experiment to him. Two weeks, right? He’ll be glad to get rid of you. You’ll never be good enough for him. So get rid of him first. He’s an obstacle, a distraction from your real purpose. To kill. 

“No,” Wade whispers.

Oh yes, it purrs, yes. You know what you have to do. Don’t let your sexual appetite get in the way. He shares his laugh, his kisses with that woman. He doesn’t love you. And he never will.  
Wade lets out an inhuman howl. He snatches up his pistol. He presses it in the center of his forehead. He fires. The voices cease. He feels the cold bullet in his skull. He feels it pass through and bounce off a wall. The blood spurts everywhere but his body is too cold to feel it. 

His body hits the floor like a rag-doll. He lets out a groan. The blood is getting in his eyes. The broken glass pierces his skin. It stings. The mercenary’s sight begins to blur, and the blood pours out of his forehead in time to his fading heartbeats. Fading into unconsciousness, he hears ringing laughter and sees beautiful brown doe-eyes. Spidey’s.  
Beautiful. So fucking beautiful.


	2. Take Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spider-man finds out what happened with Deadpool and rushes to him. Every other chapter will be in either Deadpool's or Spider-man's pov. Trigger warning for q slur and intestine icky stuff in Wade's apartment

A young man about nineteen sneaks into his backyard. The sun has vanished, but there is no moon in sight. The time is 8:30PM. The air is chilly so the young man shivers. He lifts the lid of his trash can. Hastily he fishes out a plastic bag, puts a pile of clothes in it, and puts the bag back in the garbage can. He brushes the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. The man’s hair resembles a bird’s nest, brown and tangled. His eyes are big and brown, the kind of color you can sink into. They’re full of emotion and energy.

The young man is lean, but muscular. His body movements are usually fluid, but at times forcefully awkward (to hide his other identity). He pulls a pair of reading glasses out of his pants pocket and puts them on. 

He squints in the dark. A light in the kitchen flashes on. A young woman opens the back door and sees the man. 

“Peter? Is that you?” she says, with a slight Spanish accent. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” the man says, walking up the back stairs, “I’m sorry I’m late.” The woman goes back into the kitchen and pours a glass of wine. 

“Oh..it’s fine...just fine,” she says with a thin lipped smile. Peter feels his insides twist . He sits uneasily on his couch, preparing himself for the woman’s anger.

“I...have not seen you in two weeks,” the woman announces, “because of your busy ‘work schedule.’ Doesn’t your boss give you some time off? You said you were his favorite? And then I remember last weekend your aunt said you were with your friends...but you told me you were at work. So, pray tell, where were you Peter Parker? And do not think you can lie to me!” she finishes, setting the wine bottle down with a resounding clink. 

“I was with a friend,” the man replies, leaning back into the couch with his arms crossed.

“So…” she crosses her arms as she talks, “who is this friend?” She arches her eyebrow. The woman has wild black hair and hazel eyes. She’s curvy and busty, just like Marilyn Monroe. She’s short but her whip-like tongue makes up for it. Also being short is one way to become short tempered. (Believe me, I know.) Her lips are thin and one side of her mouth turns up a little, giving the impression of a permanent smirk. 

Peter wonders what exactly to say. How could he say: “My friend is Deadpool and I’m your friendly neighborhood Spiderman.” At this point in my life everything is hard and I’m always tired, he thinks, gazing at his girlfriend, Arita. 

He sighs and lets his head dangle on the very top of the couch. “He’s..erm...mentally ill. I’ve been keeping him company and helping him,” says Peter wearily. 

“Wade Wilson?” she asks, picking up the full wine glass and arching her eyebrow. 

“That’s him,” Peter says, staring into space. The woman sits next to him and sets the wine on the coffee table. She folds her bathrobe so it hides her gratuitous cleavage. 

“You talk about him often,” Arita whispers softly. The man-spider glances at her in surprise.

“I do?” 

“Yes,” she says, moving in her seat, “you spend so much time with him too.”

“Arita...you know I love you,” he says, taking off his glasses and smiling solemnly at her, “I’m here for you, now. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“There has been something on my mind,” she whispers. “We’ve known each other for so long...and we’ve been living together…”

“And…?”

“Peter, I’ve been thinking we should tie the knot. Get married.” 

The younger man’s eyebrows shoots upward in surprise. “Arita….you know it’s not the best time. I thought we discussed this,” he murmurs, staring at the carpet, “I hardly have enough money to take care of my aunt. I don’t want you to become homeless because of me.” 

He looks up at her, his eyebrows furrowed in worry. She sighs. But it’s for the best, Peter thinks. I couldn’t even afford to take care of children; it’s such a long stretch. 

“I’ll wait then,” Arita says, grasping Peter’s hand in hers. He nods slowly and stares into her eyes. They lean towards each other like magnets. Peter’s phone rings when they’re mere inches apart. 

“Sorry,” he says, pressing the answer button on the phone. The young woman quickly gets up, off the couch and stalks into the kitchen; obviously annoyed she puts away the bottle of wine. 

Peter stands up and goes out the back door. He answers, also annoyed with a grumpy “hello?”

An even angrier voice responds, “Parker! I need your ass over here, stat! A young woman found that freak Deadpool dead in an alleyway. Cap’n America’s over here arguing with some police officer. He wants to take care of the body. Says it’s Avengers business. Take a taxi or a bus and get over here! Now!” with that, he hangs up. 

“B-but Jameson,” Peter protests. He frowns at the flip phone he just bought just ten minutes ago. He knows he must look like a ghost. His skin is deathly pale. Deadpool can’t die. He remembers the time when some assassins stabbed Wade in the back and the time when he threw Wade off the Avenger’s HQ. He stares at the phone, growing more anxious by the second.

He usually gets along with his fellow superheroes, but they didn’t always get along with Deadpool. Who knows what they’d do with him...or what he’d do to them. Probably kill them with knock-knock jokes. He smiles faintly and closes his phone. After some deliberation Peter decides to go back in the city. But as Spiderman. Peter Parker would have to deal with Jameson and Arita. 

He hurries back into his house and doesn’t see Arita in the kitchen. He hears the shower sprinkling. Peter finds some paper and hastily scribbles a note for Arita, then posts it on the fridge. With that finished, he goes out of the back door. 

Peter fishes out his costume from the garbage can. Ignoring the stench he pulls it on. Reluctantly he pulls on the mask. With a few taps on the wrists his web shooters turn on. He rolls his shoulders back and rolls his head around. 

The webbed, red and blue hero crouches into a sprinting position. With a burst of adrenaline he sprints into his front yard, down the road. It didn’t matter if someone saw him. There were many instances of people running around in Spiderman costumes.

After about thirty minutes, the manspider is swinging on webs through New York City. His heart is pounding harder than usual, and he feels a thin film of sweat on his face. The cold night air is refreshing, in spite of the hero’s sense of foreboding. 

Last night he received quite a shock. He was eating hot dogs on the Empire State building with Deadpool, taking in the night sky. With a sink in his stomach he remembers asking Wade if he could see Wade’s face. At first he refused, but Spiderman coaxed him until he got tired of it (for forty minutes.) It was a shock, seeing the scars and open wounds, the pus filled boils and yellow-ish eyes. Such sadness in those eyes. His smile, Wade’s, was bright but his eyes were so sad.

After that, and Peter’s heart speeds up, Wade said he loved him, Spiderman. He almost had fallen off the building. Wade had gripped his shoulder to keep him steady. In that moment he felt, with great horror, pity for Wade. Wade’s eyes were filled with desperation and sadness. Peter had blurted out “No!” in the heat of the moment. He hated himself for that. He would have rejected him politely, but he just shouted no; like an insensitive jerk. 

I can’t date someone I hardly know, he thinks, and I can’t date someone out of pity. I already am with Arita, too. It’s nothing to do with homophobia or Wade’s face. I can’t beat myself up about this; God knows I have other things to worry about. 

The younger man’s stomach lurches as he spots a collection of cop cars and an ambulance near the alleyway from earlier. He lands on the sidewalk, behind a large group of people. He starts to push past them. The people exclaim and many move aside to let him through. His phone begins to ring again, but he ignores it. 

There in the start of the alley, stands Captain America and the director of S.H.I.E.L.D, Nicholas Fury. At their feet lies a black body bag, probably containing the body of Wade Wilson. Spiderman’s stomach is in knots. He approaches them, hearing them arguing pretty loudly.

“Sir, as much as I respect you, Mr. Wilson is a troubled individual and I believe his actions-”

“C-Captain!” Spiderman squeaks; he winces at the sound of his voice. The super soldier adjusts his belt and turns to Peter. 

“Good evening,” he says, his lips pursed in patriotic frustration. 

Nick Fury glowers at Spiderman. “Peter, the adults are talking. We can deal with this,” he says in a low voice. The man-spider’s cheeks grow warm. 

“I-I know who you’re dealing with,” Spiderman says, “and that person in there is my friend.” He points at the body bag, gathering up his composure. 

“Son, that man is a mass murderer who would endanger every last one of us. He’s nobody’s friend,” Fury states, crossing his arms. 

“It doesn’t matter who he’s friends with,” the captain interrupts, “he’s also a danger to himself. As the leader of the Avengers I think it’s my responsibility-”

“No!” Spiderman interjects, raising his voice, “he’s my responsibility! You said I could help him! And I will. He is not a lost cause and he is not the monster you guys make him out to be!” 

Captain America raises a hand as if to calm Peter and says, “no one is calling Mr. Wilson a monster.” 

“Did I hear that right, Rogers? You gave this boy permission to what?! Monitor Deadpool?” Nick Fury barks, uncrossing his arms and staring in disbelief. 

“Spiderman has proved to me he can handle him. He’s calmed Hulk down more than I have,” the star spangled hero says, “and not only that, Mr. Wilson here says he trusts him. I can’t think of anyone more qualified.” 

“Aw, gee, thanks Cap,” Spiderman says, blushing. 

“However,” the captain continues, “if another incident occurs I can only give control to Mr. Fury.” 

“And why are you calling the shots, Rogers?” Fury asks. 

“Well doesn’t that sound good to you? We’ll give Mr. Wilson another chance and if he either terrorizes citizens or kills them, you can take care of it,” Rogers says, adjusting his belt.

A lump starts to form in Peter’s throat. He didn’t like the way they talked about Wade, like he was an atomic bomb or some kind of monster. It sounded like when they talk about Hulk. The green giant is hard to control, but Peter knows he’s struggling. No matter how much society hates you, no one is going to hate you as much as you’ll hate yourself. Sometimes you can absorb their opinions on top of your own self hatred. You’re haunted by your flaws, constantly reminded of them. Even your talents can make you look crazy. And people fear what they don’t understand, ponders Spiderman. He looks at Captain America and wonders if he ever has these thoughts. 

“Fine,” Fury says, breaking Peter’s train of thought. He raises a hand and some black vans drive away. “Take care, Rogers. Keep your head on, Parker.” He turns around, his long black coat billowing in the wind. He strides into a sleek black limousine. Peter is reminded of a fancy cowboy. 

The two heroes watch him drive away. They begin to notice the large crowd. The man-spider is surprised to see a glimmer of nervousness in the captain’s eyes. Cameras flash and several news trucks are there to report, including the Daily Bugle. Jameson looks like an overripe tomato. I’m so dead, Peter thinks, so dead. Deader than bugs on a trucker’s windshield.  
Mr. Rogers bends on his knee to pick up the black body bag. “Wait!” Peter says, taking a step towards him, “let me take him.”

“Alright,” the captain says somewhat reluctantly, standing up. “Where will you take him?”

“I’ll take him to his apartment,” he replies. 

“Oh...well here’s the…” the captain mutters, taking out his cellphone, “directions...to...oh no, wait, that’s not it.”

“Let me try,” Spidey says, taking the cell phone and sending the directions to his phone. 

“Technology is more complicated nowadays; more than it needs to be,” the patriotic hero says, with a little laugh. 

“Sometimes,” Peter says, shrugging. He can’t help but think of Iron Man. 

“I’ll speak to the press and the police. It’s strange...Wilson should be awake by now,” the captain says, walking away. 

“Erm,” Peter shouts, “have a nice night, Cap!” 

The star spangled hero waves at Spiderman and gives him a small salute. The young man inhales deeply. He grabs the handles of the bag and lifts it a few inches off the ground. Wade is heavier than he thought. He tucks the body bag under his left arm, shoots a web onto a traffic light, and prepares to sprint. Good thing I have my spider strength, he thinks.

Spiderman sprints, leaps into the air and begins sprinting. It’s awkward and he can’t swing too high, for fear of dropping the unconscious merc. Already he can feel the bag slipping. He has to swing high, let go, shoot another web, and adjust the bag. He continues doing so for ten minutes. Finally he turns a corner and lands in a dimly lit street. 

Panting and aching, Spiderman drops Wade onto the sidewalk. This place looks so shady, he thinks. He opens his phone to check the address again. He begins to drag the merc to a tawny colored apartment building. “Yeah, this is the place,” he murmurs, “let’s get you home big guy.” 

Peter finds an elevator and presses the going down button, repeatedly. The doors open and Peter enters. To his surprise a scantily clad woman is standing in the elevator, in the corner. Her clothes are black and white; made out of tough looking leather. He was glad for his mask since it hid his steadily reddening face. 

She glances at him and makes an odd hissing noise. “Going up, spider boy?” she asks, smirking.  
A little puzzled, Peter replies with a nod. She presses the third floor button. After she leans on the doors, glaring at Peter. 

“What’s in that bag?” she asks, pointing with a long index finger. 

“Frankly,” Peter says quietly, “that’s none of your business.” 

“Oh, I see,” she hisses, “and I’m guessing why you’re here is none of my business either.”

“Exactly,” he says, feeling a bit annoyed. An itch starts to form on the back of his head; then a faint buzzing. Then he felt a ringing pain. It’s his sixth sense, his spidey senses. 

The woman stands up straight and crosses her arms. Before Peter can act, she gives the black bag a swift, hard kick. Spiderman shouts and shields the bag with his body. 

“It’s a body that you’re hiding,” she sneers, “looks like you’re not the bloody angel Wade says you are.” 

Peter feels claustrophobic, standing so close to her. His spidey sense didn’t stop ringing. “H-how do you know-”

“I’m Domino, Wade’s ex partner. He doesn’t stop gushing about you. It’s sick. I don’t like dealing with queers.” The woman brushes her bangs away, revealing a diamond shaped tattoo around her eye. 

The lump returns in Peter’s throat. “That’s pretty harsh,” he says. 

“The world’s harsh,” she says, going back to her corner.

Trying his best to ignore her rudeness, he asks, “so I’m guessing you’re here to see Wade?”

“Yeah, we have unfinished business,” she says curtly. 

“Well you might have to postpone your business,” Peter says, smiling at her. 

“And why is that?” she asks. 

He bends down and begins to unzip the bag. The woman quickly takes out a shotgun (from who knows where) and makes a warning sound. A powerful stench rises from the bag. Peter’s nose wrinkles up. 

“Oh God, what is that?” the woman yells, opening the bag. She lets out a short, bitter laugh. 

Tears form in Peter’s eyes, only from the strong smell. Deadpool’s face is screwed up in frustration and his eyes are closed. Only his mask is off. A hole the size of a quarter is present on his forehead. 

“How long has he been out?” she asks, smirking. 

“I-I’m not sure,” Peter mutters. Wade’s scars look more irritated than they were last night. 

The elevator doors open and Peter zips up the bag. He throws the bag over his shoulder, like a sack of potatoes. He leaves the elevator and walks down a hallway, carefully looking for the right apartment room number. Domino is at his heels, chuckling every now and then. He finds this incredibly unnerving. I guess it takes one to know one, he thinks, glancing at the body bag then at Domino. 

He finds the right door and reaches to open it. It’s locked. Domino laughs and asks if he needs help. He jiggles the door knob. Domino pushes him aside and unlocks the door with a few bobby pins. She throws open the door and switches on the light, chuckling.

Peter walks in but hastily covers his mouth as he feels a surge of bigle going up his throat. At first all he sees is blood. The floor is stained with blood and God knows what. To his utter horror, he sees some entrails in a corner. He curses, lifts up part of his mask, and vomits.

Domino makes a mockingly sympathetic noise and giggles. “Poor lil’ boy, can’t handle a little spilled guts? So sad,” she cackles, sitting on an old, creaky couch. The television is on, playing repeats of AFV. 

“Intestines are supposed to stay IN the body, not outside of it,” Peter says, with a tiny smile. He finds a stray napkin (not too stained) and wipes his face. He pulls the body bag next to the couch, desperately trying to ignore the gross piles of dead skin and clumps of what looks like burritos. He unzips the bag and flattens the sides, so it reveals the entirety of Wade’s body. With a twinge of envy, Peter notices how muscular he is; each muscle is well defined, like a body builder’s. He even has a six pack, he thinks begrudgingly. No wonder his outfit is made like that. Whereas I’m scrawny and short, he thinks. 

“Um...you two want some time alone?” Domino says, smirking.

“Actually I was thinking...could you watch him until he wakes up?” Spiderman requests, slightly guilty feeling for wanting to leave.

“No can do, wonder boy,” she replies, getting to her feet, “I’m an impatient girl. I’m not gonna stay in this shit-hole. Give Wade a big wet kiss for me.” She strolls over to the front door and leaves before Peter can say anything.

He stares at the door. That woman gives me the creeps, he thinks. He’s only a little relieved that she left. He glances over to the window in the apartment. He decides to open it, to let some air in. 

Peter goes back to the couch. He picks up Wade, out of the bag (princess style) and lies him on the couch. Peter lets out a gasp when the merc groans. He sees his eyes move briefly underneath his eyelids. Spiderman’s heart is thudding hard in his chest. 

He looks around and sees two other doorways. He opens the door to what must be a kitchen. Or what used to be. A tiny table holds a large stack of pancakes and pizza boxes. The sink is full of dishes and...underwear. Not just boxers, but frilly women’s panties and thongs. The cabinets are broken and full of bullet holes. The man spider notices a jug of oil on it’s side; it’s leaking. He quickly sets it upright. This is a lot to take in, he thinks, he makes Wolverine look like a neat freak. I’ll have to clean this place up; it’s aggravating me. 

He hastily goes back into the living room. Wade is softly snoring. On his tiptoes, Peter leans over to look at him. The bullet hole in Wade’s forehead has vanished. He sighs in relief. Peter goes into the other room. He lets out a little yelp. A human heart is nailed onto the inside of the door. Peter feels a chill crawl down his spine. Some blood is still oozing out of it. Peter finds a light switch and turns it on, expecting the worst.

In the middle of the room is a Queen sized bed. The sheets and blankets are strewn all over the floor. They’re bloody and torn. A slice of pizza rests on some socks. The smell isn’t as bad as the living room. Boxes line the walls. They’re stuffed to the brim with grenades, ammunition, and folders. “I’ll deal with that last,” Peter murmurs to himself. 

To the right of the bedroom is a bathroom. The light is still on. Spiderman tip toes into it. It’s easily the worst room. The bathtub is thick with grime and rust. It hasn’t been used in what looks like years. Peter couldn’t even look at the toilet without gagging. The sink is missing the “cold” faucet. The sink is covered in toothpaste. A lone purple toothbrush lies next to the toilet. Peter hopes it’ll never be used again. He chucks it into the toilet and flushes it. To make sure. 

He jogs out of the bedroom and into the living room. Wade’s not on the couch; but Peter’s spidey-sense isn’t tingling. Where is he? He wonders, his heartbeat quickening. He feels chills again. Quickly he goes into the kitchen: not a single soul is there. He goes back into the living room and removes his mask; it’s getting harder to breathe. Panting and frantic, he goes over to the front door. He tries to open it, but it’s locked. “He-he left,” he says to himself, “he went out. I didn’t even hear it.”

A thousand scenarios flash in Peter’s mind, all of them ending badly. The lump returns once again, in his throat. He feels tired, worried..and hungry. He goes over to the couch and to his surprise, sees a small piece of paper in the body bag. “Going out for groceries. Stay there. Just wait till you taste my chimichangas baby boy~DP”-the paper says-. Peter almost collapses. His legs are shaking. 

“Why didn’t he just say something?” he whines, face-palming. The note has hearts drawn all over it. The handwriting is big and blockly, like a small child’s. He tears it into tiny pieces and throws himself onto the couch. It lets out a weary squeak.

He looks up at the ceiling. Some knives are dangling there. He raises his hands and retrieves them with his webs. At this point, nothing will surprise me, he thinks. Nothing. Peter leans forward and digs through a pile of CDs of TV shows. It’s odd that there’s no movies...After a minute or two he grows bored of looking at them. He stands back up, but too fast; his head starts to swim. He holds onto the wall for support. His stomach growls. 

I’ll start cleaning to pass the time, he decides. The younger man goes into the bedroom, into the bathroom. He turns the shower on. The pipes protest and rust descends into the tub. The water washes away the grime, but not all of it. The hero finds a toilet brush and begins scrubbing the walls of the shower. He doesn’t step into the tub but leans forward, using the shower curtain for support. He gets on his knees and scrubs the tub furiously. He gets into the tub and immediately regrets it. The feet part of his costume aren’t water proof and they suck up the moisture. He sighs and continues scrubbing. 

After what seemed like hours, the shower and tub is clean. Peter stands back, admiring his work. He turns around and notices how filthy the rest of the bathroom is. He shakes his head and enters the bedroom. Spiderman’s feet part of the costume start to stick to his skin. He removes them and regrets this, too. 

He hurries over to Wade’s dresser and opens the top one. This primarily has underwear of various kinds. He quickly shuts it, blushing. He opens the second drawer. It contains an M14 rifle and some dog tags. On it reads: “Wade Wilson, Major, guerrilla force.” He never thought Wade would’ve been in the military. And to get to such a high rank. But that explains some things. Wade’s still a mystery to me, Peter thinks. He puts the dog tags back. 

In the third drawer is miscellaneous clothes. A white T-shirt, camo pants, some pink shorts..and some socks. Peter takes them out and puts them on. To his relief, they seem clean. He wonders if he should’ve asked first. He shrugs. It’s just socks.

The younger man goes back into the living room and lies down on the couch. He sees a bag of chips stuck in the cushion. He turns to the room and stares at a pile of entrails. He decides to clean it later when he’s less tired. He’s only staying to see if Wade is ok and to give him a good talking to. And maybe to clean the entire apartment. If time permits, he thinks. He stretches his toes and yawns. 

Peter’s phone dings. He checks it and sees thirteen missed calls and five text messages. The phone calls are half and half between Arita and Jameson. His stomach sinks and he turns off the phone. Guilt churns about in his mind and he closes his eyes, wishing for the billionth time that he wasn’t a superhero. But as usual, he talks himself out of it. He looks dazedly at a bloodstain on the wall. He rubs his eyes and yawns again. He blinks several times, then dozes off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how long a chapter is supposed to be,,,hope this is ok :)


	3. Din-Din

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deadpool goes out for groceries to feed his darling Spidey. Very gay shit goes on. Not sex though. Several characters make appearances~ Trigger warning for self-harm and mild violence.

Wade hums to himself as he strolls down the grocery aisle. The voices are debating on which salsa they should get. “Spicy is the way to go,” one squeaks. 

“Nu-uh. Spidey doesn’t like spicy food,” says a deeper voice, dubbed the white box. Deadpool rifles through the shelves, murmuring. 

He takes two jars of salsa; one spicy and one mild. That’s fair enough. He walks out of the aisle, ignoring people’s stares. Just imagine their reactions if he wasn’t in full costume. Total chaos. 

He goes to the self-checkout humming some Lady Gaga. The merc feels someone poking on his back. He turns around and looks down. A snotty-nosed little boy stares up at him, with big curious eyes. 

“S-Spiderman? Can I get your autograph?” the boy asks, clasping his hands together in a pleading way. This happens more often than it should, a voice points out. Maybe we should consider a costume change? Nah, the author would like us to stick to the original stuff.

Wade smiles brightly, stretching his mask by doing so. He squats down so he’s level with the kid. “I know something better than an autograph,” he says. The kid looks a little befuddled. 

“Your voice sounds funny,” the boy says. Deadpool digs through his pockets and smirks. 

“I overdosed on helium,” Deadpool says, taking a yellow rubber duck out of his pocket. He hands it to the little boy. “It makes a noise when you squeeze it.” The boy inspects it carefully.

“Go on, kid,” Deadpool prods him.

The boy squeezes the duck and it lets out a croak. The boy laughs and squeezes it several times. “See? It’s better than an autograph,” Deadpool says, smiling. 

“Thanks!” the little boy says, flinging the duck around several times and smiling up at Deadpool. The boy, without warning, runs up and hugs him. Wade, still squatting, almost falls backwards. 

“Whoa! Hey, personal boundaries,” he says, laughing. The boy beams shyly and backs away. The voice go “aw” in unison. Wade ruffles the kid’s hair. A middle aged lady suddenly appears next to the kid.

“Timothy, let the nice man buy his groceries,” the woman says, gently taking the boy’s hand.

“Look at what Spiderman gave me!” the boy exclaims, showing her the duck. The woman laughs nervously and smiles politely at Wade. 

“Err..thank you, sir,” she says to Wade. He stands up and salutes.

“You’re welcome, madam. I have other rubber fowl in case your kid loses that one,” he says, “and some other rubbers..if you know what I mean.” He giggles. The voices sigh in disapproval. That was terrible. And inappropriate.

“Well, um, that’s nice,” the woman says, pulling her son’s arm, “let’s go, Timothy.”

“G’bye, Spiderman,” the boy says, reluctantly following his mother. 

I wish Deadpool was this popular, he ponders. Oh yeah, you are popular; infamously popular, a voice says. Not popular enough to be on the front page. Spiderman is in the news every week. “But he just gets bullied,” he murmurs as he picks up his groceries from the self checkout area, “wish I could protect him.”

How? By asking Jameson not to bully poor ol’ Spidey with a well written love letter? With a tiny remote controlled explosive? He giggles. We tried that last year. It wasn’t very effective. 

Wade jogs out of the grocery store. The nice cold air hits him in the face. There’s a song in my heart and a skip in my step, he sings in his head, a smile on my face and a beautiful boy at my place. Who is sort of being held against his will.

Wades goes past the parking lot and turns, jogging down the sidewalk. The apartment building is just a few blocks away. Wade lives out here in Harlem. He hasn’t killed anyone since he moved here. Not until recently. Oops. He only severely injured two teenage boys who were beating up another boy. After that Deadpool trained the boy on how to box. The two teen boys got out of the hospital fully recovered, ready to go back to beating up the other boy. They had their butts back in the hospital faster than you can say Billy Bob Hendrickson. That makes daddy proud, Wade thinks, whistling. 

He arrives at the apartment building. He sighs, seeing his neighbors going in and out of the elevator. I’m not a patient man, he thinks. The stairs are out of the question. He looks upward. Time to do this Assassin’s Creed style. 

“Viva la assassini!” he shouts. A multitude of rainbow colored Italians cheer in Deadpool’s mind. “Huzzah!” In real life, his neighbors scurry away, fully aware of their masked neighbor’s reputation. 

Wade attaches the grocery bags to his belt and climbs up the building to the first story. He kicks in a window on accident. He hears a woman scream so he sticks his head through the window. “Nazi zombie!” he shouts at the pretty alarmed woman. Wade continues climbing, until he arrives at the third floor. His apartment room has a balcony. He climbs onto it and jumps through his window. He does a somersault and lands in the center of the living room, glass covering his back. 

Peter is sitting up on the couch with his mouth open and his face partially covered in drool. That’s gross. And kind of sexy, the merc thinks. Peter hurriedly wipes his face and gets off the couch and onto his feet. 

“Wade!” he shouts, his voice hoarse, “what the actual hell?” 

“I can explain, sweetums,” Deadpool says, “you see the grocery store had a sale on bell peppers and I’m a sucker for sales on produce-”

Peter stalks over to Deadpool and his voice is low as he speaks, “You could have told me you were leaving. I was worried sick. Not only that but half of New York city knows that you..you shot yourself. And this place,” Peter says, gesturing to some piles of stuff, “is not a place for a human to live in. I-I don’t know what upsets me the most. You need to take care of yourself. You’re a human, Wade! You can’t keep living like this! No one can live like this! You’re not just some piles of intestines! You’re not a monster either, so I don’t know why you think like this. I know these body parts were parts of you,” Peter says quietly, panting, “you can’t live thinking that...that living like this is what you deserve.” 

Deadpool whistles lowly. “Holy shit man, you must be tired. Save the sermons for later, baby boy. From what I’ve done I’m the definition of the bogey man,” he says, smiling, “and no tears of Spidey is gonna change that.” He unbuckles the bags of groceries from his belt and heads to the kitchen.

“Wade!” he shouts, grabbing the older man by the shoulder. Deadpool flinches instinctively and shoves him away. Peter trips on a shotgun and lands on his butt. Which is cute as hell, Wade thinks. Peter curses and glares at Wade. Suddenly a low grumbling noise interjects through the silence. Peter looks down and blushes. He’s hungry. 

“Ohoho,” Wade says teasingly, “somebody needs din-din.” He smirks and holds out a hand. Peter scowls and takes it. Wade hoists him up and gives Peter’s bottom a firm, hard smack. Peter yelps and jumps up a little, his face burning. 

“Why did you do that for? Damn,” he says, rubbing his butt, “keep your hands to yourself.”

“That was the appetizer, snuggle muffin,” the merc says, giggling, “hold your webs steady while I make you dinner.” The merc turns on his heel and swaggers to the kitchen. Peter, still quite red, sits on the couch. He looks like a tomato, a voice says, a cute lil’ tomato. Deadpool fishes a casserole dish from under the sink. It’s a tad dirty. 

“Wowee, that stinks!” Deadpool shrieks. 

“It’s not that hard to clean every once in awhile!” Peter shouts from the other room. 

“Easy for you to say! You have a girlfriend to clean,” Deadpool retorts, turning the oven on.

“I do the cleaning,” Peter shouts, “and that’s sexist, it’s not just women who clean.” 

“It’s Not JuSt WoMeN who CleAn,” Deadpool says in a caveman voice. The merc hears a creak and Peter grumbling pretty loudly. The next thing he knows, Peter storms into the kitchen. Deadpool squeaks in mock fright and bats at Peter with his spoon. The angry young man tries to punch him but he easily dodges it. Wade rushes forwards and grabs Peter by the shoulder, throwing him onto the ground, onto his back. Wade sits on Peter’s stomach, quickly straddling him. Peter struggles, cursing and panting. He knocks Wade’s jaw with a clumsy jab. The merc grabs Peter’s arm and bends downwards, mere inches from Peter’s face. 

“Don’t disturb the cook,” he whispers. Peter is glowering, positively pissed off. The man-spider pants heavily, making his entire body heave up and down. The sweat on Spidey’s face is glistening. The voices whisper such dark things...kiss him..kill him. Heat arises in Wade’s crotch area and he starts to sit up again. Peter wriggles around and manages to push Wade off of him. 

“Whoa bro, you’re like a rabid cat in water,” Deadpool says, as they make it to their feet. Peter angrily dusts off his costume. 

“And you’re a wacko ape man,” Peter retorts. Wade bends forward, picking up the spoon and giggling. 

“Says the sparkly spider monkey.”

“Look..sorry for trying to hit you. It was uncalled for, I guess,” Peter huffs, scratching his neck. 

“It’s cool, man; you probably couldn’t hit me if you tried anyway,” Wade says, snickering. Wade turns to the sink, putting ingredients together. Peter frowns thoughtfully. He walks over to Wade, pretending to watch him make the chimichangas. He moves so they’re shoulder to shoulder. 

In a flash, Peter slaps Wade across the booty. The merc’s body stiffens and he drops the spoon into the casserole dish. “Take that, ape man. Got a hit on you!” Peter says, laughing.

Three supermodels hold up signs (Deadpool’s imagination) and each sign has three suggestions. 1: Kick the shit out of him 2: Pin him on the table 3: ignore it. The audience cheers for number one. Number three it is. Wade picks up the spoon and places it in the sink, all the while not making a single noise. He strolls over to the fridge and looks for the cheese.

“Uh...Wade?” Peter says, leaning on the sink. Wade looks up from the fridge.

“Mmmyes, baby boo? Whatsa matter?” Wade asks, smiling sweetly. We’re like a couple.

Peter opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it. “Nothing,” the man spider says, his cheeks pink. He looks out the window and Wade notes the slight irritation in his voice. He finds the cheese and goes over to the sink. Peter slides away and sits on a chair next to the kitchen table. 

After forty minutes, the chimichangas are done. During those minutes, Wade was singing in Spanish (very loudly and off key) and Peter was desperately yelling at him to knock it off. Now Peter is waiting in the living room, on the couch, irritated and uncomfortable. Wade makes two plates. He sets them on the coffee table, humming an Italian ballad. Peter moves so his elbows are resting on his knees. Wade hands Peter a fork and sits on the couch beside him. 

Peter picks at his food then gingerly nibbles at it. He takes a few bites and decides that it’s safe to eat. He starts slowly, then begins to eat ravenously. Wade watches in awe.

“Teenagers and food. Crazy,” he murmurs. He lifts his mask a little and eats at a faster pace. Peter swallows and picks up his empty plate. He gets up and gets two more chimichangas and eats them quickly.

“Hey, leave some for me!” Deadpool whines, getting an extra three. 

“Thith is all I’m getting,” Peter whines back, with food in his mouth. Deadpool eats his three, with the manners of a cow; food flies everywhere, Wade’s mouth is open, but Peter doesn’t care. He leans back into the couch and pats his belly.

“Ahh..man..Aunt May would kill for your recipe,” Peter says dreamily. “That was really good, Wade.” He smiles contentedly at the merc. 

“Told ya so,” Wade says, a bit of green pepper flying from his mouth. He finishes his chimichangas and burps loudly. Wade leans back, gazing at Peter. The younger man is staring quietly at the wall, emerged in his own thoughts. Peter’s face is small, narrow; his cheeks are so sharp and delicate. But his eyebrows are dark and fierce-looking; without his large doe eyes he’d look scary. Wade notices a strip of tomato skin on Peter’s lip. 

He gently wipes it off with his thumb. Spidey’s eyes widen and he clutches the couch, watching Wade intently. Wade snorts and says, “It’s just a piece of food.” Peter pales a little then nods, relaxing more on the couch.

“Spidey...you’re not afraid of me..are you?” the merc asks, leaning towards the webbed hero. The younger man smiles and confidently leans as well. 

“Why should I?” Peter whispers, “since you’re not very frightening.” Wade chuckles in response and removes his mask. Peter stays still, smiling and scanning Wade’s face with his eyes, his cheeks turning pink. But then his brows furrow. 

“I-I should get going,” he says, getting up, “it’s not your face of anything (trust me Green Goblin’s not much of a looker) it’s just...getting late.” The younger man offers his hand. 

“Thank you for the food, Wade.” The merc stands up and giggles. 

“You’re forgetting dessert,” he purrs, arching where his eyebrow used to be. What you’re thinking is stupid, the voices say. All hail stupid! 

“I think I’m full,” the spider-man says, taking an unconscious step backward. 

“Scaredy cat,” Wade coos, “won’t you stay, baby boy?” He takes Peter’s wrist in an iron grip, smirking. Peter scowls at the merc, then sighs. 

“I’m not scared. And I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” the man spider says. “So what’s for dessert?” 

Wade’s stomach jumps. He starts to lose his grip on Peter’s wrist. He takes a few steps closer to Peter; he doesn’t flinch or move, just watches Wade carefully. Spidey’s so short, being this close, he thinks. Wade places his hand against the middle of Peter’s back, looking into his eyes. 

“I am,” Wade says, his voice strangely cracked and husky. Peter looks puzzled and red, his pupils darting back and forth on Wade’s face. 

“Wade, I’m sorry,” Peter whispers, taking a step back. The voices start squabbling. Peter looks at the floor, his ears red. 

“Oh well,” Wade says, cracking a smile, “I was joking, dude.” The younger man doesn’t look very convinced and slowly puts his hand on Deadpool’s shoulder. 

“I..maybe..maybe a little k-kiss wouldn’t hurt,” the man spider stutters, nodding and squeezing Wade’s shoulder. “But like just a little one.” 

Wade’s heart starts to pound like a drum. His muscles feel tight and tense. Peter looks up at Wade, his doe-eyes blinking repeatedly. 

A thought flashes through the merc’s head. “Why?” he asks, a dozen other questions invading his aching brain. The younger man licks his lips and clears his throat several times.

“T-to prove that I’m not scared of you,” says Peter, whose hand is actually trembling. Wade notices his trembling and chuckles. The younger man frowns. Wade feels some disappointment; he did want to kiss him. Not this way, though. In a more romantic setting, yes. 

“C’mere,” Wade says, arms outstretched, “c’mon. Gimme a hug instead. Stop bein’ a sissy.” Peter wipes some sweat off of his eyebrow. 

“I am not a sissy,” he snarls, firmly hugging Deadpool. Deadpool wraps his arms around Spidey and lifts him off the ground easily. He’s light and hot-feeling. He sets him on the ground when Peter starts to protest. 

Wade smiles, making his entire face crinkle. “Sissy-spider gonna wet his pants,” he taunts, backing up a little. Spiderman crosses his arms and scowls. Wade chuckles and cocks his head to the side. 

“Your phone’s been going off the hook; you might want to answer it,” the merc says. Peter looks at his phone and inhales sharply. 

“I can call later,” the younger man says, his eyebrows knitting. 

“So,” the merc says, leaning on a wall, “are you still scared of me?” He saunters up to Spidey, very close again. “Or do you want to prove it again?” Peter looks up defiantly at the older man’s scarred face.

He grabs Wade’s cheeks and stands on his tiptoes. The man-spider plants a tiny kiss on the merc’s nose. Deadpool stands there, completely stunned. The voices are quiet, as if in suspense. Peter stands back, displaying a wide, smug grin. Wade feels something he hasn’t felt in years. A warmth spreads over his cheeks; he’s blushing. He picks up the dinner plates carefully. 

“Maybe I should scare the shit out of you,” Wade muses out loud, “perhaps you’ll prove yourself by being bent over this coffee table.” Wade happily notes how the man spider reddens and tries to sputter his response. Before he can respond, Wade puts the plates in the sink, in the kitchen. He feels bubbly and light. Choirs of tiny Spiderman angels are giggling, their voices like so many church bells. An itch starts at the back of his head. Why would Spidey tease him, knowing about his feelings? Did he feel sorry for him? It was only teasing...No biggie. Maybe he’s too tired to think? 

Wade goes over to the fridge and takes out a few bottles of beer. He half-jogs into the living room. Peter’s by the TV, trying to screw something back onto it. This boy will be the death of me, Deadpool thinks. You can’t die, dude, a voice squeaks. Wade shakes his head and puts the beer on the table. Peter glances at it and smirks. 

“I’m underage; I can’t drink,” the man spider says, standing up. He launches himself onto the couch and lies down, yawning. Wade rolls his eyes and sits on Peter’s stomach, facing the coffee table. He pops off the beer cap and takes a sip. 

“Hey. Get off,” the hero complains, “you’re too heavy.” He lightly swats at Wade’s side.

“This is ma couch,” the merc replies, “and this is ma butt on ma couch.” He wiggles and Peter swats at him a little harder. 

“Your butt is currently crushing my insides!” Peter whines, trying to push him off. 

“My butt is fine where it is!” Wade hollers, grabbing part of the couch.

“My butt is wondering what the heck is going on,” a new voice says, at the now open front door. Peter’s eyes almost pop out of his skull. In a hoodie and jeans stands Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye. Wade’s eyes also almost pop out of his skull.

“Legolas!” Wade and Peter shout at the same time.

“Jinx!” they shout again, at the same time.

“You owe me a soda, ape man,” Peter says, “I said jinx first.”

“You didn’t answer my question-ugh never mind,” Hawkeye says, face-palming. “Wade, why are you sitting on Peter?” 

The merc scowls. “Because I want to,” he says, then he looks down at the man spider. “What’s with the boring ass name?”

Peter pushes Wade off of him, causing him to drop his beer. It crashes against the floor and the bottle crashes into glass fragments. Wade lies on the floor, blowing raspberries for no real reason. Maybe so Clint won’t yell at him. Nobody yells at babies. 

The hero clears his throat and faces Hawkeye. “So why are you here?” he asks, getting off the couch. 

“I’m here to pick you up. Capn’ says you can stay the night at the HQ; he doesn’t think you want to go home so late,” Hawkeye says, “but ultimately it’s up to you. You look alright. It looks like you and Wade are having fun.” The sharp shooter, Hawkeye, looks around the room, with his nose scrunched up. 

“Ah. Okay,” murmurs Peter, “I’ll go then.” Wade rocks and jumps up onto his feet, a giant shard of glass sticking out of the back of his head. He pulls it out with a yelp. Blood gushes out of his head.

“Awww please don’t go, Petey,” Wade begs, getting on his knees and grabbing Peter’s leg, “Can I call you Petey? Or petri-dish?”

“No. And no,” the man spider says. “I’ll be back here soon. Remember, Friday?” He tries to kick off Wade but he’s securely fastened to the younger man. 

“But you forgot about dessert!” Wade whines and then pouts. The pout would’ve been adorable on literally anyone else. “Rude.” 

“I am full,” Peter grumbles, turning slightly pink. He bends down and peels Deadpool off of him. Wade lies on the floor and sighs. 

“I guess you don’t want my recipe for the chimichangas,” Wade says in a sing song voice. 

“Chimichangas? Where?” Clint asks, his eyebrows raised. Wade points lazily over at the kitchen. Clint strides over into the kitchen, exclaims about the mess, and finds the casserole dish. 

“Can I have the rest?” Clint asks, returning with the dish and a fork. 

“Be my guest, Robin Hood,” Deadpool says, stretching. A bone in his shoulder pops and Peter winces. Clint eats the chimichangas slowly and gingerly. He places the empty dish on the coffee table and thrusts his hands in his pockets. Clint smiles and looks down at Wade. 

“Can I have the recipe, Wade?” he asks, taking his hands out of his pockets. “That was damn delicious. You should quit being a mercenary and open a restaurant.” 

Deadpool giggles and stands up again. “I tried that. It didn’t work. I blame the flying cannibal pigs. And I can give you the recipe for a price, by the way.” 

Clint nods sternly and takes out his wallet. “How much?” 

“Oh, not that kind of price,” Deadpool says, picking up his mask. 

“Then what-”

“A kiss. From either you or Spidey,” says Wade, smiling and looking eagerly at both of them. Clint snorts and rolls his eyes. Peter crosses his arms and blushes violently.

“Okay. I’ll do it,” Clint says. Peter gasps.

“You’re married! You can’t kiss anyone; it’s not-”

“My wife would understand, besides there’s no reason to tell her. A little kiss wouldn’t hurt. Unless Wade wants to bite my lips off,” Hawkeye says, laughing a little. The Hawkeye grabs Wade by the collarbone. Deadpool raises his hands in mock surrender. Clint gives Wade a peck, a millisecond of a normal kiss. Peter begins rocking on his heels, blushing. 

“That was boring,” Wade mumbles, scowling so his entire face looks like a scar. He puts his mask back on roughly. Clint puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs, basically used to these kinds of things (with Deadpool.) The merc looks through the pockets of his costume then hands a piece of paper to Clint. He inspects and nods gratefully to Wade. 

“Thanks, buddy,” the sharpshooter says.

Of course the merc-with-the-mouth was disappointed. He wanted to smooch the spider cutie with the sweet booty. Peter glances at the front door. 

“Well..see ya later,” says Peter to the merc, his face just faintly pink. 

“No, no, you wait just a second, mister!” Wade shouts, running into his bedroom and re-emerging with a tiny red box. He gives it to the younger man. 

Peter inspects it cautiously, his brows stitching together. “This better not be a bomb. I don’t want to be bug paste anytime soon,” he says. 

“You’ll find out,” Wade says sensually, “and you’ll like it baby boy.” At this, Peter blushes again. (How does he do that? Like on cue?)

“S-stay safe, Deadpool,” the younger man says, charging out of the apartment room. Clint squints then pats Wade on the back. He follows Peter and Wade shuts the door very very slowly, watching them go. He finally closes it and presses his ear against the door, listening until he can’t hear their footsteps. When they’re gone he slides on the door until he’s sitting down.

“Peter,” Wade whispers, “Petey. Spidey.” 

“Spongebob!” a voice exclaims. What a wonderful example of good American TV. Wade sits there, quietly thinking about Spongebob. He starts to laugh like Squidward. Oh god. That sucks. He attempts to laugh like Spongebob. That’s pretty close. 

Wade hits his head against the door once. After this night I won’t be able to go night-night, he thinks.


	4. Spandex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spiderman and Deadpool begin training. Also very gay but no sexy times, sorry. I'm not very comfortable with those kinds of scenes but I miggght add one. Trigger warning for violence and anxiety

Fast forward to two days later, on Friday in the big ass city of New York. Spiderman, aka mild mannered Peter Parker is swinging through Manhattan, absorbed in his own thoughts. To recap: when Peter finally got home yesterday, Arita, Peter’s girlfriend, was infuriated by his absence. He lied and said he was with Jameson, taking pictures for the Daily Bugle. Arita, scarily meticulous, called Jameson that morning. At his wits end, Peter “confessed” that he was held up in traffic and that he forgot his wallet. Fortunately he had his wallet with him in his Spidey costume. Arita, still furious, moved back into her parents’ house down the street. She would move back when Peter “cleaned up his act.”

“Not only that but Jameson cut my pay,” Peter thinks, sadly. He really did need to clean up his act. He just wished Spiderman wouldn’t be in the way of him being Peter Parker...but it’s his choice, ultimately. 

After agonizing over Arita and Jameson, Peter thinks of Wade. He lands on the top of the Empire State Building with the perfect balance of a spider. He couldn’t really remember what happened Wednesday night. He only remembers how gross Wade’s apartment was...and he recalls, what..flirting? With the merc? Was that what that was, he thinks, with a lurch in his stomach. At least I didn’t really kiss him. Would it taste like gunpowder and Mexican food? Never thought I’d wonder that. 

He jumps off the building and starts swinging, swinging to Deadpool’s apartment. That’s the last time I’ll wonder something like that, he decides, a shiver going down his back. A familiar voice booms on the city’s biggest public TV. 

“Spiderman is a menace!” thunders J.J. Jameson, a vein bulging on the side of his head. “Reliable sources have informed us that this web crawling creep has joined forces with another masked freak, Deadpool. They were seen planning Wednesday, at four-thirty on fifth avenue. Eye witnesses can confirm that-” 

Peter soars past Jameson’s booming voice, trying to block it out. My life is a dump truck, Peter thinks sorrowfully, both halves of my life. He sighs and turns a corner. After about twenty minutes and he’s at the door of Wade’s apartment.

The door has tiny, bullet sized holes in it. It’s quiet. Peter looks through one of the holes, his heart thudding in his chest. No one seems to be there. He knock and waits for a few minutes. Nobody answers. He turns and starts walking down the hallway. He presses the elevator button and crosses his arms. The doors open with a resounding “ding”. There, in the elevator, stands the merc-with-a-mouth. 

Wade drops the groceries he’s holding and crushes the man-spider in a muscular, smelly bear hug. “Baby boy!” he squeals, squeezing him. Peter gasps for air. 

“Dude! L-lemme breathe!” the younger man gasps. He pushes against Deadpool’s face, since the merc is trying to give him masked kisses. Peter swacks Deadpool in the jaw and Deadpool reluctantly lets him go. Peter straightens his costume, blushing faintly. 

“How’s it hanging, Spidey? Or should I say Petey?” Wade asks, picking up the groceries. 

“Don’t say my name in public,” Peter grumbles. “And I’m doing fine,” he lies. There’s no point in telling Wade about his troubles. Also because Wade is one of his troubles; he doesn’t want him to feel guilty, even if the older man might not feel guilt. Peter hunches over and picks up a grocery bag. He peers into the grocery bag and grunts disapprovingly. It’s beer. 

Peter follows Wade into his apartment, wondering if he should tell the older man what he’s thinking. He didn’t want to seem naggy..but well..he is. 

“Wade,” he says sternly, “do you know what a salad is?” 

The merc jerks his head around, to stare at the young man. “Are we talking about the leafy boring stuff or is this a trick question?” he asks, bouncing on his heels. 

Peter closes the door behind him and clears his throat. “I’m talking about the leafy boring stuff. It’s not healthy food that you’ve been eating. Eating all of this junk will make you feel like junk,” Peter says (with many pauses, beginning to realize he doesn’t have the best diet but it’s better than D-p’s), “And uh...alcohol will damage your insides. And mess with your head. A better diet can-” the man spider is suddenly interrupted by Deadpool giggling. 

Deadpool sighs and clasps Peter by the shoulder. “Listen, Petey,” he says, “I..uh..don’t give a diddly squat. I am what I eat. Besides, my internal organs always regrow.”  
The merc lets go of Peter’s shoulder and shrugs. Peter rolls his eyes and puts the grocery bags in the kitchen. “Well,” Peter says, walking back into the living room, “I give a diddly squat. Tomorrow both of us are going grocery shopping for REAL food. And you can’t excuse yourself out of this.” 

“This is like a k-drama!” the merc squeals, “it’s a date then!” He claps his hands and does a clumsy twirl. Peter crosses his arms and blushes.

“It’s not a date,” he says. “Think of it as part of your training.” The merc giggles and starts doing little ballet hops. His hand grenades jiggle on his belt. Peter can’t help but smile a little. The older man stops dancing and turns to Peter, his face scrunched up beneath his mask. 

“I saw the the news earlier. Jameson must have an entire tree up his ass,” Wade growls, “if he doesn’t I’d like to shove-”

“No unnecessary tree ass- shoving,” Peter says, smiling and nodding, “but I do agree with you.” 

“He sure rubs me the wrong way,” the older man grumbles, sitting on the kitchen table. “So when do we start, boss?” 

“Oh. In a couple minutes; I want to give you something. Wait here, please,” Peter says, exiting the apartment. He hears Wade audibly gasp, then he hears him shouting “YISS!!!” Peter picks up a bag and goes back into the apartment. The older man is apparently cheering to himself. He stands around waiting for him to finish. He’s talking to himself. Sometimes Wade pauses, as if he’s listening to someone else. Peter thinks that Wade is crazy, but not completely forgone. But I wouldn’t know really, he ponders, I wonder if I should ask? He imagines what would go down. Deadpool would say, “No way. It’s y’all that are completely co-co. I mean have you seen Wolverine? Fuckery is what that is.” Just perfect…

Peter clears his throat loudly, causing the merc to spin around and make a high pitched noise that sounds like “kyah.” Deadpool tries to hug Peter but he dodges the hug and stands behind him. 

“I wanted to thank you for the 21 Pilots CD so I got you this,” the man spider says, holding the bag outwardly, “also...how did you know I liked them?” 

“I stalked your facebook,” Wade says in monotone. 

Peter pulls the bag closer to himself.

“C’mon, everybody does it. Like picking boogers and peeing outside-”

“Ok, I get it,” Peter says, handing Wade the bag. Deadpool squeals and reaches into the bag. He carefully takes out a DVD with two fingers. The merc gasps and grasps it with both hands. 

“Season 7 of the Golden Girls! Oh my gosh, Petey! You shouldn’t have! I mean you can buy me anything and I’d love it but you’ve already made my night,” the older man babbles, “you’ll have to watch it with me sometime. Oh! And bring Hawkeye with you. Yeah...you should call him right now!” 

“U-um,” Peter interjects, “the training, remember?” The merc sets the DVD on the coffee table, goes back to Peter, puts his head in his hands, and groans. 

“Right..”the merc grumbles. “But really, it’s nice of ya. Thank you. Thank you so much.” Peter can almost see Wade smiling beneath his mask. 

Peter feels his face heat up. “Y-you’re welcome,” he stutters. All this gratitude makes him somewhat uncomfortable. But uncomfortable in a good way. His face is burning. He clears his throat. 

“Let’s get going then, boss,” the older man says happily, walking out of the apartment. 

“Oh! Wait,” Peter says (dreading the response), “we can go through the window. I’ll...er...carry you on my back. It’ll be faster. The training area’s a bit far and we’ll cover more distance with my webs.” 

Deadpool turns around and marches over to the younger man; he wraps an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “I never thought tonight would be the night I get to ride Spiderman,” he says, “tonight we’ll make history. Spandex against spandex. Skin against skin. Oh am I going to-” 

"Keep talking like that and the garbage man will be scraping your body off the pavement,” Peter snaps, pushing Wade lightly. 

“Aww! I love it when you talk that way,” Wade purrs. 

“Just shush,” the man spider says, opening the window and jumping out onto the balcony. Deadpool follows him eagerly, humming to himself. Peter jumps up and squats on the balcony railing, balancing perfectly. 

“Alright. What’s going to happen: you’re going to jump on me with enough force to knock me off,” Peter says, staring at the setting sun, “and with your momentum we’ll swing away.” Wade shrieks and begins jogging in place. 

“Will you hurry up pl-” The man spider is interrupted by 200 some pounds of Wade Wilson, firmly colliding into Peter’s back. Sure enough, the younger man falls off the railing. Deadpool adjusts himself so his legs are wrapped around Peter’s waist. The air shrieks around them. Peter’s heart is pounding hard in his chest. He quickly shoots out a web and begins swinging. Wade places his hands on Spiderman’s shoulders.

Suddenly the merc starts screaming, like the kind you hear on roller coasters. Peter winces and shouts, “Wade, I will drop you! Don’t test me!”

“We’re so high!” the merc shrieks, “you can see everything up here! Woo!” Peter rolls his eyes and swings low to the ground. And up again. Wade kicks out his legs and screams.

“Wade! Please! Shut up!” 

“Ok, ok. Whatever you say, Mr. Pilot sir.” The younger man turns a corner. Wade’s not too heavy. He’s much lighter when he’s conscious, he thinks. Too bad my senses are so strong that I can smell him. Wade smells like a dump. 

Deadpool shifts around on Peter’s back, humming to himself. Suddenly he stops humming. Peter feels him grind up against him. 

“Stop that,” Peter yells, turning another corner. The place is just up ahead. Wade grinds on the man-spider, singing some kind of r&b song. The younger man flushes in frustration.

“I will drop you I swear to God!” Spiderman yells. The older man giggles and stops moving. Peter lands on the top of an abandoned factory. Wade hops off Peter’s back, giggling and probably smirking at the younger man. Peter whips out his leg and tries to trip the merc. Deadpool jumps up and kicks him in the face lightly, making the man-spider fall on his back. He lets out a little shout and glares up at the older man. 

“You’re really pissing me off, Wade,” Spiderman snarls, getting to his feet. He straightens his costume and dusts it off, grumbling. 

“It’s what I do best. Being extremely annoying and extremely sexy. I can’t help it,” the merc says, stretching.

“I’m pretty sure about the first one,” Peter grumbles. 

“Aw! You wound me!” Wade says mournfully, rolling his shoulders back and cracking his neck.

“I am very tempted to do so,” Peter says, looking around. The mercenary giggles and takes out his guns.

“So I’m not the best at foreplay and you’re the boss,” Deadpool chatters, “so how are we going to do this? Or are we going to wait until your jets are cool? Because you look really-”  
“Of course I’m mad! Have you heard of personal space?” Spiderman asks, “were you raised by wolves? You can’t just hump people’s backs!” He feels his face growing warm. 

“I can’t help either of those things,” Wade says, twirling his pistols, “because your back is so humpable.”

“Next time, if you do that again, I will throw a car at you,” Peter grumbles, crossing his arms. “Okay...the first thing we’re going to do. You’re going to attack me (and contain me) without causing lethal damage.”

“That’ll end really soon, baby boy. Considering those last times I pinned you down,” the merc says, chuckling. 

“I was just mad and tired those times!” Spiderman retorts, crouching into a fighting stance. “Go on. Try not to kill me.”

The older man shrugs. “I’ll try,” he sighs out, “but I can’t promise, baby boy.” Before Peter replies, the merc tries to trip him with a low sweep kick. Peter jumps up and kicks the older man squarely in the face. Deadpool yowls and grabs his broken nose. He snarls and removes his bloody mask. His nose is crooked and his face is twisted in irritation. Spiderman feels his heart racing.

“Wade?” he inquires quietly. Suddenly the merc’s face breaks into a wide smile. It sends shivers down the man-spider’s back. Deadpool flips out his pistols and starts firing at Peter. His spidey sense is ringing like crazy. Peter dodges the bullets; one clips off a bit of his ear. This is not what he meant by trying not to kill him. He clenches his teeth and webs up the entrances of the pistols. Deadpool drops the pistols with a chuckle and tackles Spiderman. The force knocks the air out of Peter as they crash to the ground. With scary speed the merc places the spider-man in a firm headlock. 

Peter elbows Wade in the stomach, to no avail. He feels Wade’s muscular arm on his throat. Hard enough to keep him there but not choke him. Peter grabs Wade’s wrist, pressing his pressure point. He twists his body a little and kicks Wade in the groin. The merc yowls and releases Peter. 

“Foul play! Foul!” Wade shouts. Before he can regain his senses, Spiderman attempts to kick the merc. Wade, furious and hurt, grabs Peter’s leg and twists it. The man spider curses in pain and tries to jump away, only making it hurt worse. Deadpool flings him against a brick wall. The air is knocked out of him once more as he thuds, falling to the ground. Some loose bricks fall on him and he groans in pain.

As he stands up, the mercenary punches him with a left hook, causing Peter to see stars. He hits him again with a right uppercut. Peter coughs out a tooth and jumps onto the other wall, his entire body shaking and his knee aching. Maybe he’s stretching it too far? He feels blood on his lips and sweat dribbling down his neck. Why was he so tired? Deadpool sprints to Spiderman; he tries to launch himself off the wall but the merc grabs Peter by the foot and throws him to the ground. He yells and twists around, pain shooting through his back. Deadpool kicks him several times in the sides, letting go of his foot. Peter flings himself into a squatting position, but gets a swift kick in the head. 

Despite the ringing in his ears, Peter stands up and punches Wade in the gut, keeping it fast but not as hard as he wants. Wade tackles him and they both slam into the ground. They struggle and wrestle until Wade straddles his hips. His spidey-sense rings just as loudly as his pain. He hears a click. Deadpool presses a pistol between Peter’s eyes; Deadpool giggles.

“Should we?” he says, “should we make him bug paste?”

“No!” Peter croaks. “Wade! This wasn’t the plan, Wade-”

“Is he going to beg?” Wade cackles. “Seriously? How pathetic. That deserves death.” 

“What? Wade? It’s me!” Peter shouts, “don’t shoot!” 

“Shoot? You want me to shoot you? Most people don’t ask me to do that,” he says, pressing the gun a little harder against Peter’s head. 

“No! Stop! Please!” Peter croaks loudly, “Please do not shoot!” 

“Such a weakling,” Wade coos, gently stroking his pistol with his other hand, “see what being a hero gets you? It gets you dead.” Peter clenches his fists and teeth. He hits Deadpool in the stomach with both his fists, making Wade drop his pistol. Peter takes the chance to land another punch on Deadpool’s throat. The merc giggles and grabs Peter’s arms then holds them one with one hand, still firmly on top of the younger man. Wade picks up his pistol again, pressing it against Spiderman’s temple.

“Fuck me,” Peter mutters. Deadpool chuckles and moves the pistol to Peter’s forehead. 

“You think a little curse word is-”

“No. That’s not what I meant,” Peter croaks, “Please. Don’t shoot me. You can touch me, anything but this.” Embarrassment isn’t a big issue here, at this moment, Peter thinks. 

Deadpool giggles and withdraws the gun. “I thought we were training,” he says, smirking, “at least buy me dinner first.” 

Peter gasps and begins sputtering, “Y-y-you! You fucking bastard!” he yells. “I thought you were going to kill me!” 

Deadpool winces at the yelling and gets off of the younger man, frowning. “Does this mean we won’t canoodle?” 

“What the hell do you think?” Peter shouts, getting to his feet; his legs are shaking and he falls back down. Wade offers his hand but Peter swats it away. He gets up with much effort. His leg, still badly hurt, gives way and he drops again. It must be a sprain. He groans audibly and sits there. He hurts. All over. He lost his girlfriend. He almost lost his job. His leg is sprained. His lip is bleeding. This maniac unnerves him, scares him..arouses him. Why? He would never admit this. Peter bites his now trembling lip. He begins to cry. He didn’t know why. Why? He gasps out and sobs. 

Wade laughs uneasily. “Um..baby boy?” he asks, squatting next to him, “I didn’t scare you that bad did I? Baby? Sweetums?” 

At this point, he no longer cares how embarrassing this is. He lies on the ground, crying and ignoring the older man. He’s sick, so sick of everything. Sick of being a hero, sick of trying to pull his life together. 

Wade whines, “Petey! Please stop cryin.” Peter lets out a loud sob and curls up on the ground. “C’mon baby boy. You can’t be that upset.” 

“I’m sorry,” Wade says, “so please. You’re making this awkward.. And well..” Deadpool uneasily pats Peter’s shoulder. He continues crying, curling into a ball. 

“C’mon,” Wade whispers, prodding him. Wade pulls off Peter’s mask. The younger man swats Wade’s hand away and his mask flies into a chute. He sits up, his face probably covered in blood, sweat, and tears. He sniffles loudly and glares at Deadpool. The merc is frowning, his eyebrows lifted slightly in concern and confusion. 

“I….,” Peter says, with a hiccup, “you...let’s-let’s just...let’s just go get some beers.” He wipes his face, frustrated. How could he cry like that? In front of Deadpool? He hangs his head, sniffling. The older man shifts his weight uneasily. He feels the merc hugging him, but once again he doesn’t care. He’s a bastard, Peter thinks, a goddamn bastard. He feels Wade patting his back and making clucking noises. He no longer has the energy to yell or anything. He wraps his arms slowly around Wade, feeling weak and miserable. And tired. He buries his face into his shoulder. 

“You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” Wade whispers, “I can take care of myself.”

“Nuh-uh. You might hurt other people,” Peter whispers, his voice breaking, “like yourself.” He squeezes Wade in the hug, his face growing warm.   
“It’s what I do best,” Wade says, giggling. 

“You give nice hugs,” Peter murmurs. The merc stiffens, giggles quietly, then pats Peter’s back gingerly. 

“I give nice bjs too,” Wade says. Peter nods, numbly. He lets go of Wade and stares at the floor.

“I’m going home,” the younger man says mechanically. He stands up and sighs. Wade stands up too, looking pretty concerned still. He looks through his pockets and hands Peter one of his masks. Peter puts it on without much thought, then jumps, shoots out a web, then falls unconscious, onto the sidewalk.


	5. Just Dudes Being Dudes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spiderman realizes something. Hawkeye gets traumatized. Heroes get introduced. T'Challa is bae

The rain patters softly on steel. The wind rages against the windows. Peter Parker snoozes quietly; he feels warm and cozy. He opens his eyes, but all he sees is darkness. He concentrates a little harder and sees some moonlight pouring through a window. He tries to move but he can’t. His limbs feel like heavy steel. He must be in bed. He closes his eyes. He aches so it’s probably not a dream. 

He hears some rustling next to him. His eyes grow wide in terror and his heart begins to pound. He turns his head slightly. Lying next to him, only in boxers, is Wade Wilson, aka Deadpool, one of the most dangerous mercenaries on the planet. And all Peter feels is irritation. And fatigue. Wade breathes softly as he sleeps. He looks like Freddy Krueger, Peter thinks, smiling faintly.

“Don’t kill him,” the merc murmurs. Peter gasps then sighs in relief. He’s just talking in his sleep.

“Stay away from him,” Wade says, stirring a little, “stay away from Peter. Don’t. Keep away, don’t touch him!” Here he shouts, sitting up and opening his eyes, “Don’t hurt him! It’s me you want!” Deadpool yells frantically and Peter sits up as well, groaning. 

“Peter! Don’t go! I’m sorry!”

The younger man rubs his eyes and gently touches Wade’s shoulder. “Wade, it’s ok,” he whispers. 

“Don’t leave! Don’t let them take you!” Wade still shouts, his voice racking with a sob, “Don’t leave me.” His shouting turns into childlike whimpers and continues trying to talk with sobs.

“Wade,” Peter says groggily, gently shaking him. “It’s just a dream.” 

“P-Peter? S’that you?” Wade asks, looking around wildly.   
“I’m right here, twit,” Peter whispers. Wade looks at Peter sitting next to him, his eyes blank.

“Don’t die,” he whimpers, pulling the younger man into a rough bear hug. Peter winces and uneasily pats Wade’s back. He internally rolls his eyes, thinking about just a few hours ago. 

“I won’t die,” Peter whispers, “it’s ok. You can let me go now.” Wade nods and lets him go.

“I want to tell you something,” Wade says, his voice unusually stern and deep. Peter lies back down, his head swimming.

“Go ahead,” Peter replies quietly, nodding. 

Wade clears his throat and whispers, “Before I was with S.H.I.E.L.D and the X-men...before I met the Avengers...I was a lab rat. An experiment. I was diagnosed with cancer; it’s lethal so the doctors told me I wouldn’t survive for long. But these people, the Weapon X program, told me they would cure my cancer and make me a hero. They didn’t, but you know that. They took away everything from me. My mortality, my reason for living, my sanity, my good looks,” here he chuckles, then taps his head, “I think what kept me alive were these guys. I killed them. The ones who poked and prodded me like some kind of dilapidated flesh pin cushion. They deserved it. I was a merc before all this mess so it wasn’t too hard to get on my feet again. But then again..” he sighs and looks out the window. 

“I-I’m sorry to hear that,” Peter whispers. He feels alarmed. Wade is crazy. But not exactly in this moment. He should take this chance. 

“Why can’t you be a hero now?” he asks.

“It’s too late,” Wade whispers, staring down at his hands, “it’s the way I am. People don’t change so quickly. I can try but I don’t think it would work.”

Peter frowns, thinking. “I...I want to help,” he says, sitting up. “I think it’s possible.”

“Thank you,” Wade murmurs. “I really love you, Peter. I appreciate it.” He looks up, away from his hands, staring at Peter soberly and with a little pout. Peter blushes and stares back at him.

“Um...thank you, too,” Peter mumbles. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“It wasn’t hard. You’re as light as a feather,” Wade says, grinning, “and I patched you up. Sorry again for kicking your puny ass.” His voice resumes it’s strange octave and the merc grins at him. 

“I’ll get you next time, ape man,” Peter says, grinning back. Wade chuckles and strokes Peter’s hair. The movement makes Peter nearly flinch. Then he begins to relax into Wade’s touch and gazes at the bed sheets, his cheeks slowly going pink. He feels like he forgot something...something…

“Aunt May!” he yells. Wade screams and stops stroking Peter’s hair. 

“Your aunt? What what?!” the merc yells.

“I was going to have dinner with her tonight,” Peter says, moving his legs out from from under the covers. “Where’s my phone?”

“It’s in the kitchen, baby boy,” Wade replies, getting up and turning on the lights. Peter sighs at the mess and sits on the side of the bed. He blushes deeply. He’s wearing only his white boxers. Bandages cover his sides and legs. Peter stands up and yelps. Wade rushes to his side, clucking like a mother hen. 

“Take it easy,” he says. 

“Dammit,” Peter curses, sitting back on the bed. 

“I’ll get your phone, wonder boy,” Deadpool says, giggling and heading to the kitchen. He comes back, wearing a black bathrobe. He hands Peter his phone with a thin lipped smile. Peter nods his thanks and dials in a number. 

“Hi. It’s me. Yeah, I know I’m late. I met an old friend and we started talking. And you know how traffic is...yes. Yep. I know. I’m sorry, Aunt May. Maybe we could have brunch sometime tomorrow? Yeah. I love you too,” Peter says, clearing his throat and hanging up. 

“Dang skippy,” Wade says, rocking on his heels. “Fresh out of Queens.” 

“What?”

“Oh, sorry. That was Yellow. He’s so random sometimes,” Wade says, chuckling. “Do you want something to drink?” 

“Some water, please,” Peter replies, shifting in his seat. Wade nods and strolls into the kitchen; he comes back and hands Peter a glass of water. The rain outside has stopped. The only noise is Peter’s sipping, Wade humming, and a clock ticking. It’s midnight. How long was I sleeping? Peter wonders. 

“You did some crying earlier,” Wade says hesitantly, “wh-why?” Peter looks up at him. The older man looks worried. He has frown wrinkles. And smile ones too. I wonder how old this guy is. Peter sighs and puts the glass on the ground, carefully. 

“I’ve been stressed out lately,” Peter explains, “I nearly lost my job. I lost my girlfriend. The entire city seems to hate me. It just grew inside me until I blew up. In tears.” 

“Wow, man.” Wade says, his eyes widening, “your life sucks.” Peter shrugs and lies down in the bed, his hands folded on his bare belly. Still so skinny, he thinks begrudgingly. He feels Wade staring at him.

“Can I stay for the night?” Peter asks. 

“You can stay every night,” Wade whispers. “That means yes, by the way.” Peter rolls his eyes and covers himself in the covers. Peter lies on his side and sighs, glancing up at Wade. 

“Are you going to sleep?”

“Yep. Do you...mind if I sleep next to you?”

“Well, I woke up next to you so I don’t see why not. Just don’t do anything funny,” Peter says curtly. Deadpool smiles and lies down next to him. Peter turns and lies on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Do you wanna hear a story?” Wade inquires, also staring at the ceiling. 

“No.”

“So it was a blistering summer day in Southern Italy when a very young Italian boy accused me of stealing his tomatoes (which I did). He attacked me with a large fake mustache-”

Forty minutes later…”Then the bushy eyebrow dude got really, really drunk. Like I don’t know how; the dude only drank three beers. So his little brother puts a crown on him and calls him Queen Victoria. Now the French guy-”

“Does this story have a point?” Peter asks, yawning. 

“Yes. Don’t slap someone’s sausage.” 

“That makes no sense.”

“It would make sense if you were listening,” Wade mutters, turning off the lamp light. Peter coughs and turns, facing Wade. Ten minutes pass by. Twenty. Wade is softly snoring. Peter moves closer to him. He realizs how cold he is; Wade feels so warm. Suddenly the merc rolls over, facing Peter. He’s fast asleep but the younger man’s heart flutters. He’s not so bad looking close up. Slowly the Spiderman sits up, watching Wade sleep. He looks so peaceful. Almost cute.   
Peter leans down and kisses Wade’s cheek. He immediately lies back down, his stomach doing 360s. He must’ve hit his head really, really hard. It’s like he moved without thinking. His heart is beating fast and the sheets feel like fire. Wade’s cheek is soft and nice..softer than he thought it would be. Peter turns to lie on his back, sighing softly. It’s my maternal instincts. Or maybe I’ve gone nuts, he thinks. Bonkers!

“Unfair,” Deadpool murmurs, “and you told me not to do anything funny.” Peter gasps and stares at Wade with eyes of shock.

“M-m-my maternal instincts kicked in!” Peter stutters. Wade glares at him. He laughs uneasily and shrugs.

“Unfair,” Wade grumbles, sitting up. “Let me kiss you too, ya creep.” Peter blushes and sits up, trembling a little. Wade leans over and kisses Peter on the forehead, a quick, light kiss that makes Peter blink several times.

“Th-that’s it?” Peter asks.

“Why? You disappointed?” Wade says, snorting in amusement and smirking lazily at the younger man. “Expected somethin’ more?”

“Y-yeah.” Peter whispers, “I mean yeah to the second part! I-I don’t swing that way.” Wade makes an incoherent noise then bursts into giggles. 

“Oh my stars! The legendary Spider-Man only swings one way! He’s beaten the laws of physics with his strict heterosexuality!” Wade roars, “Brava! Brilliant! You’re almost like Bucky!” 

“I don’t mean it like that,” Peter interrupts, glaring at the older man, “and what does Bucky have to do with-nevermind; from my past I can say I’ve only been with girls. But lately I’ve been thinking about it. Perhaps I’m a little curious. But of course sexuality can’t change overnight.” 

“Bi-curious,” Wade says, smirking. “ And yeah, it can. We should try a little experiment. See who’s right.” 

Peter’s face goes entirely red and he splutters out a few words before composing himself. “Y-you know what? Fine,” he says. “Fine.” 

“Excuse me?” Wade asks, snorting in disbelief and making a dumb face. Peter clears his throat and attempts at eye contact.

“I um...accept your challenge, Wade. I’ll have s-s-sex with you,” the younger man says, his heart thudding hard in his chest. He hopes Deadpool can’t hear it. Wade’s scorched eyebrows shoot upwards. Then he smirks, scooting closer to Peter.   
“Ok then,” Wade says huskily, “take notes, baby boy.” Peter nods hesitantly and scoots closer to Wade. The older man strokes Peter’s hair and he leans forwards until they’re mere inches apart. Peter’s cheeks feel on fire. He gazes into Wade’s eyes; they’re blue, with tiny specks of yellow on the white parts. He closes them and kisses Peter’s lips, softly. The younger man closes his eyes as well. Peter is surprised by his gentleness...and how bad his breath is. Wade slowly deepens the kiss, nibbling Peter’s upper lip. Peter lets out a soft noise, almost like a moan; much to Peter’s anxiety, he can feel himself shaking. Wade squeezes Peter’s shoulders and pulls away from the younger man. 

“You ok-” Peter interrupts Wade by pulling Wade’s head closer to his and kisses back, a little more passionately. He feels the older man smiling into this kiss and he smiles as well, slowly beginning to lick at Wade’s upper lip. Wade lets out a soft groan and Peter carefully moves his hands up Deadpool’s robe, untying it with deft hands. They pull apart from the kiss, gazing into each other’s eyes. 

“I’ve waited for this for a long, long time,” Wade says, smiling widely and wiggling his eyebrows. Peter laughs and moves his hands around on Wade’s chest, blushing deeply. His skin is so soft in spite of the scars. 

“Perv,” Peter whispers, smirking and pulling off Wade’s bathrobe. Wade lets him then growls lowly, pushing Peter on his back with a wolfish grin. Peter winces but grins smugly back. Wade moves onto Peter’s stomach, sitting on him gently. Peter feels a certain something and it makes his cheeks burn. The older man moves forwards and gives Peter’s neck a soft kiss, causing Peter to shiver. A sudden thought goes through Peter’s brain.

“U-um, Wade?” he whispers, moaning quietly as the older man nibbles at his neck. 

“Mmmyes, sweetums?” 

“H-how did you-ah-get your scars?” Peter asks, trying to keep his moans quiet. Deadpool suddenly shoots upwards, pouting. 

“Peteyyy! I’m trying to sex you up, not answer questions!” he whines, pouting. 

“I’m sorryyy! I’m just curious,” Peter whines back, chuckling. 

“Ughh. You see since I heal so much, so does the cancer. Super powers, super skin cancers,” Wade explains, smiling. “Now shaddup and let me fuck you.” 

Peter giggles and sits up a little, kissing the middle of Wade’s chest. It feels rougher on his lips, but not too much. It almost tingles. The younger man kisses Wade’s right pec, heading for his nipple. Wade grabs a fistful of Peter’s hair, shifting in Peter’s lap. 

“Ah….I er...sorry to interrupt,” a voice says, interjecting into the room, “but it’s an emergency.” Peter’s eyes look about the size of saucers. Wade groans in frustration and flips on the lamplight, getting off of the younger man in the process. Peter squeaks and covers his upper body in blankets. 

“What the hell, Robin Hood? Can’t you see we’re busy?!” Wade whines, sitting on his knees. 

Peter swallows thickly, dropping the blankets. He turns to see a tired looking Hawkeye, in his action-clothing. His face must look like a tomatoes. 

“Said I was sorry,” Hawkeye says, leaning on the door frame. “Mr. Parker here needs to get to the Avenger’s HQ. Capn’ went missing and everyone needs to be there. I can tell you the details on the way.”

Peter clears his throat and slides out of the bed, his legs shaking a little. He glances over at Wade. “D-do you know where my costume is?” 

“Yep-di-doo,” Wade replies, getting off the bed. He saunters over to his closet and rummages through it. He extracts the Spidey costume and hands it to Peter. 

“I actually have several of these,” Wade says, smiling, “I learned how to make them on Youtoob.” 

Peter begins to question that, but thinks better of it and nods, putting the costume on. Awkwardly. He sees several of said costumes peeping out of Wade’s closet, as well as Wade’s own costumes. There appears to be a dress too. Peter shakes his arms and legs, trying to get the nerves out.

“How is it? I cleaned up the blood on it and stitched it up a little. It should hug you in all the right places,” Deadpool says, chuckling. Peter looks around at his butt then down at his feet.

“It’s perfect, actually,” the younger man says, swallowing. He turns to Hawkeye, glad that he’s wearing a mask now. “We should get going.”

Hawkeye nods and sighs. Peter begins to walk out of the room, but then Wade grabs him by the arm. The younger man tilts his head in curiosity.

“Try not to get killed, baby boy,” Deadpool says, leaning down and giving Peter’s masked mouth a tiny kiss. Peter almost shakes off Wade’s hand but decides to hug him instead, his heart pounding hard. 

“Don’t kill anyone, dude. See ya later,” the younger man murmurs, patting Wade’s back. They let each other go and Peter nearly sprints out of the room. Hawkeye nods to Deadpool and quietly follows Spiderman. They both leave the apartment, Hawkeye shutting the door closed. They enter the elevator. Peter’s heart is still pounding like crazy. He saw it. Iiit! He rocks on his heels and glances at Hawkeye. Clint Barton’s face looks pretty stony. Looks like I might’ve made a rocky situation, Peter thinks. Haha. Puns.

“So…” Peter says, “what’s-”

“How long have you been with Deadpool?” Clint interrupts, staring straight at Peter, his gaze almost non-caring.

“I-I...I’m not dating Wade!” Peter says, in shock. 

“Then what was that earlier?” Clint asks, staring at the elevator doors, smirking a little.

“I was soothing his wounds.” 

Clint looks back at Peter, his face deadpan. Peter struggles not to giggle. “I-it’s nothing serious. And besides, it’s not really important right now.” 

“Look...Peter. I have nothing against gay people, but Deadpool is different. And I don’t think getting close to him will help either of you,” Clint says, stepping out of the elevator. Peter follows.

“It’s...not like that. I don’t know him very well. But I do know he’s not gay, probably pan or omnisexual,” Peter says thoughtfully. “Besides, it’s my business; I can take care of myself.” 

Clint spins on his heel, looking sternly at the younger man. “You’re right. It isn’t my business. But I don’t want it to become my business. Or the Avenger’s business. Do you know how dangerous it is to date a mercenary? Let alone someone with that kind of reputation?” Clint asks. 

“We’re not dating,” Peter protests, getting frustrated, “since we both hardly know each other. And for what you saw... i-it was just an experiment. And it was consensual. Also, I’m perfectly aware of Wade’s reputation. I think Wade needs help too. And maybe, just maybe, Wade isn’t that disgusting of a person and I might like him a little.”

“Ok,” Clint says, rolling his eyes, “it’s not serious, but you like him and you’re Spider Jesus.” Clint shrugs and they both stalk into a black car. They sit and Clint gestures to the driver.

“You know what Cap'n’ said,” Peter points out. Clint lets out a heavy sigh and gazes out the window. 

“He told you to contain and help Wade Wilson, not to have sex with him,” Clint grumbles. The driver lets out an amused snort.   
“Dude...hey. What about you and Black Widow?” 

Hawkeye raises his eyebrows slightly. “That’s history, kid. And alright, I get it. I won’t talk about it anymore,” Clint says, moving a little in his seat. “Now we need to focus on what’s important. Usually the Capt. will leave with escorts to whatever mission he’s on. Recently, however, he went on a solo mission to Hawaii but we haven’t heard word from him or anyone else. This is alarming because S.H.I.E.L.D keeps tabs on the Avengers, but they’ve lost their hold on the Capt. We’re summoning every Avenger we can contact and we’ve sent every tracker out to Hawaii and the seven seas. It’s completely chaotic at the HQ. Not even Wolverine has seen tail or hide of Steve.” 

“And how can I help?” Peter asks, plucking at a loose bit of car seat. Hawkeye slaps his knee and turns to look at the younger man. 

“You’re going to sit tight at HQ. Until we get this mess sorted.” 

“I can’t do anything else?” Peter asks. Clint shrugs.

“I suppose Tony will tell you what you can do.” 

Peter nods and gazes out of the window. He doesn’t feel as tired as he used to. That nap really helped. I wonder why I like Deadpool, Peter thinks. He annoys me but at the same time, whenever I’m with him I laugh a lot more. When we go out to eat I feel so relaxed and I feel like I’ve known Wade for years. And as for being..attracted to Deadpool...he really does have a nice body. Peter blushes at remembering what happened just ten minutes ago. That wasn’t a very bright idea. I haven’t even broken up with Arita properly. Peter gulps down a gasp. Dang it. 

Twenty or so minutes pass by and they finally arrive at the Avenger’s HQ, aka the Avenger’s Tower. It used to be Stark Tower. Technically it still is. Hawkeye and Spiderman move out of the car and they stretch a little. 

“Follow me, Peter. We’re going to the communication part of the building,” Hawkeye says, walking towards the entrance. Peter follows him and they enter. Jarvis greets them and they jog down the hallway, towards the elevators. The elevator opens and they enter. T’Challa, aka Black Panther, leans on the inside of the elevator. 

Hawkeye and Black Panther nod at each other in greeting. “‘Sup, dude,” Peter says, smiling. 

“Hello, Spiderman. Are you doing well?” 

“Yeah,” Peter says, lying through his webs. “How about you?” 

“I’m alright,” he replies, crossing his arms slowly. The elevator doors open after a few minutes and they all walk out. 

“Ugh. I hate small talk,” Hawkeye murmurs, not to anyone in particular. 

“You would hate being royalty then,” the king of Wakanda says; you can almost hear the smirk in his voice. They make a few turns while some people in lab coats rush past them. Peter recognizes Helen, a friend of his. Of course she doesn’t know that mild mannered Peter Parker is Spiderman. Peter has been working as an intern for Tony Stark, whenever he has free time that is. It’s relieving to know that Tony appreciates Peter’s love for science and values his opinions. 

They finally make it to the communications room. Heroes are buzzing around, papers are flying everywhere; it definitely looks chaotic. Tony is speaking in a headset, his brows furrowed in concentration. Wolverine is in a chair, looking antsy. Probably itching to fight something. Black Widow is typing away on a laptop. Black Panther goes to the main computers and starts speaking with the people working on them. Peter watches as Hawkeye makes his way towards Black Widow. He taps his foot, waiting for Tony to notice him. When he finally does, Tony motions for Peter to come over. 

“What’s the sitch?” Peter asks, crossing his arms and trying to look professional. 

“Hawkeye didn’t tell you?”

“Well yea-”

“Rogers went missing, so we’re all looking for him. My guess is that he’s been kidnapped, by professionals,” Tony Stark says, his hands on his hips. “Their technology must be pretty good to have hacked S.H.I.E.L.D’s.” 

“Wow,” Peter exclaims. “Um...how can I help?” 

“Well, there’s not much you can do,” Tony says, scratching his bearded chin and gazing around the room. “Ah well. Scarlet, Wolverine, and Black Widow are going out to Hawaii to scout out where Rogers was last. But it’s kind of dangerous.” 

“I can do that,” Spiderman says, uncrossing his arms. Tony makes a disapproving noise. “I’m not a kid anymore, you know.” 

“Yes, I know. But if something bad were to happen…” Tony says, letting out a soft sigh. 

“I’ll keep myself safe. I’ll stay close behind Wolvy, so it’ll be alright,” Peter says, trying to sound reassuring. Tony gives him that I’m-a-worried-parent look.   
“Seriously. I’ll even text you,” Spiderman says, laughing a little. 

“Hmm..okay. If you see that star spangled ass, tell him if he goes missing again there’ll be another civil war on his hands,” Stark says, raising his eyebrows. Peter nods and pats Tony’s shoulder. Tony pats his back and squeezes Peter’s shoulder. Stark goes back to what he’s doing and Peter looks around the room again. Time to bother Logan. 

Spiderman swings across the room, neatly landing on the seat next to the Wolverine’s. He looks up at Peter then goes back to glaring at the floor. Spiderman squats on the seat. “Howdy,” he says. 

“Hi.”

“You look bored,” Peter says. “Have you tried crossword puzzles? That might ease boredom.” Wolverine glares at the younger man then glares back at the floor. 

“We could play tic tac toe while we wait,” Peter says, sitting on the chair normally.

“Or you could shut up,” Wolverine growls out. 

Peter considers this. But talking eases his anxiety. Hmm..I wonder how much Wolverine knows about Deadpool, he thinks. Wade mentions him every now and then so they must have some kind of history. 

“So uhh..you know how Cap'n asked me to look out for Deadpool? What do you know about him?” 

“Deadpool? Kid, you shouldn’t be messin’ around with that creep,” Logan growls, leaning back in his chair and looking at Peter. 

“Tell me something no one else has.” 

“Best killer I know. I see red whenever I see him. Never shuts up,” Wolverine says, “like you. You two could be long lost twins.” Wolverine chuckles at this. Peter rolls his eyes. 

“It’s more likely that you two could be twins. Because of...Weapon X,” Spiderman says hesitantly. Wolverine growls a little and leans back more in his chair. 

“I don’t know what exactly happened to Wade with that scummy program, but it ain’t good,” Logan says. “It was different than what I went through. So we can’t be related.” 

Peter nods thoughtfully and squats on his chair, in spider stance. “Are you related to bears? Pretty sure you are. And beavers.”   
Wolverine jumps up out of his chair, claws already out; he looks pissed. Tony makes a warning noise and Logan quickly takes back his claws. Tony charges over to where Wolverine and Spiderman are. 

“You two! No fighting in the Tower. And especially not right now. You all will have to leave soon, too,” Tony says, his hands on his hips, looking stern.

“Whatever you say, playboy,” Wolverine growls. He glares at Spiderman and pushes past Tony. Peter makes faces behind his back but reluctantly follows the gruff man. This was going to be a long flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm so in the middle of Chapter 5, I had to actually start writing instead of copy+pasting. So yea Idk if I should continue this


	6. Lemme Be Your Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade decides to follow Peter! Chaos ensues! So much weebness! Also another character is introduced. Since I wanted to have more structure, Yellow Box is () and White is {}

Deadpool pulls on his action outfit, zipping up the front with a grunt. He rifles through his closet and finds a couple of blasters. Borrowed ones, he thinks. One of my favorites.

{I don’t think taking them from a Z’nox’s liver counts as borrowing.}

(Yeah! Finders keepers.) 

“Yep-di-doo,” Wade says, attaching the blasters to his hip. His katana are still in sword jail, watched over by Petey. Oh Petey. Tonight was not expected. The way he was touched...oh so good. I could faint from all this, he thinks. But at the same time, what if it was only a pity thing? That happens a lot. 

(But he seemed to really want us.)

“Who doesn’t want me?” Deadpool asks, giggling. 

{Most of the world.}

(Wait. What are we doing again?)

“We’re going to go save Captain Spangled Banner,” Wade says, taking a few more weapons and straightening his utility belt. “That way Petey and maybe the Avengers will be proud of us. Also staying put is sooo boring.” 

(You said it!)

{Can’t the web slinger take care of all this himself?}

“Probably... but this is still a really good chance. We gotta be a little more selfless,” Deadpool says. He does finger guns at the mirror, then shoots it. Just to be random. Now how will we find Captain America and Spidey? If Cap’n went missing, then why? 

{The clear first step is to find an Avenger.}

(And we’ll interrogate them. I can be bad cop!)

“Nu uh, I’m bad cop!” Deadpool shouts, throwing open his front apartment door and walking out. He heads into the elevator and watches the doors close. He presses the button to the first floor and stretches until his shoulder weirdly pops. When the elevator makes it to the bottom, he promptly exits the elevator.

{How come you didn’t just jump off of the balcony?}

“1. It would hurt 2. If my legs are broken, less time to rescue my boi 3. It would hurt like hell,” Wade replies. He looks around and sighs softly. “If only I had some webshooters. Time to ‘borrow’ a vehicle.” 

(Spidey might not like that.) 

The merc jogs away from his apartment building, whistling to himself. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Wade spots a small, red motorbike. Just sitting there. He rips off part of it and hacks it. 

{Isn’t there a different word for that?}

“The author’s too lazy to think of one,” Wade says out loud, getting shocked in the middle of trying to hack the motorbike. “Owch. Sadist!” He revs it up and drives down the road, screaming in joy. While the motorbike’s owner screams in frustration. 

“I’ll return it!” Wade shouts over his shoulder. 

(Yeahhh totally. *Finger guns*)

“Did you literally just say asterisk finger guns, asterisk?”

(I’m a disembodied voice; gotta make the best of it.) 

He careens down the street, until he spots the Avengers HQ, in the middle of New York. Several people hurry away, frightened to see the merc. He parks on the sidewalk and whistles. 

“Wow. I haven’t been here in forever,” he says, pushing the doors open. Some blue beams of light go up and down Wade’s torso. He tries to bounce away from it, until it’s finished. 

“Good evening, Mr. Wilson. It’s certainly a pleasure to have you, but I do believe Mr. Stark banned you from the premises,” Jarvis, Tony Stark’s assistant and A.I. says.

“No man can ban me from any premises,” Deadpool replies, “And frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” 

(Oooo classic.)

“That’s from quite an excellent movie, Mr. Wilson,” Jarvis says.

“A.I.s watch movies?” 

{Technology has come too far. We must prepare for robot war.}

“No, they don’t. But Jarvis can scan the data in movies, which is almost like watching them, but not quite,” says Mr.Stark himself, descending from the stairs. 

“It’s the man himself! Mr.T! Man of iron! Man of binge drinking!” Deadpool says, throwing his hands in the air and wiggling his hips like a cheerleader. Or what he thinks is close enough.

“What are you doing here, Deadpool?” Tony asks, ignoring the introduction of his presence. 

(He doesn’t look very happy to see us.) 

{Perhaps we should have brought some whiskey?}

“Down, boys. Inappropriate.” Deadpool murmurs, then says to Tony, loudly, “I’m here to join the rescue mission to find Cap'n’. As a merc my skills in finding people is top notch.” 

“Well..you’re certainly right about that,” Tony murmurs, crossing his arms. “But you can’t. The rescue team just left.”

“I can just take another jet,” Deadpool points out.

“And never give it back? Do you think I’m stupid?” 

“But daaaaad!” Wade whines, dropping to his knees. “You let the other heroes have toys!!” 

“No can do,” Tony says, turning around. “Jarvis, can you please escort Mr.Wilson out?” 

(Oh shit. Gotta think fast.) 

{Words aren’t effective enough. Time to use force.}

(Break his neck.) 

“I’m not doing that,” Deadpool says, laughing. Tony turns around in curiosity. Wade runs up to Tony and jumps over his head, easily. The shorter man yelps in surprise, ducking quickly. He gives Tony a tiny head slap and runs up the stairs, giggling. 

“Deadpool!” 

He runs down the hallway, keeping his arms behind in a Naruto run. Tony is just behind him, yelling and running at the same time. Deadpool skips the elevator and goes up the stairs. 

(You know, people might think you’re a weeb.) 

“Who cares? I’m kawaii as fuck,” Wade says, breathlessly. Tony shouts some words into his head piece. After many flights of stairs, a few robots block the top of the stairs, whirring menacingly. 

Deadpool runs up the stairs, then runs on the side of the wall, still doing the Naruto run. He bounces off and neatly kicks the robots in their heads, doing the splits in mid air. They fall and he shoots them, until they whirr no more.

“Woo! Dude! You have battle droids? That’s dope,” Wade says, shooting near Tony’s feet. He curses loudly and hops out of the way. 

“Wade! What would Spiderman think?” Tony shouts, panting heavily. 

“Another guilt trip...I’m going to help Spidey, ya iron poop!” Deadpool shouts back. He opens the door to exit the stairway, flipping off Tony while doing so. Tony sits down on the stairs for a moment, trying to process all that happened, then he stands back up. 

Wade sprints across the hallway, trying to find the stairs to the launchpad. Instead he gets clotheslined by none other than Captain Marvel. An honor, but it still hurt as he fell on his back. 

“God-dam! What is your arm made of? Nokia phones?” Deadpool says, his voice strangled. “Not that I mind getting clotheslined by you, again.” 

(Beautiful, blond, and crazy strong? She’s giving Captain America a run for his money.)

Captain Marvel chuckles. “Thank you, I guess. You must be Deadpool.” 

“You’ve heard of me? Holy shitballs,” Deadpool says, coughing and getting on his feet. 

“No, Tony just told me a masked Spiderman look alike was running through the building and that I should stop him,” she replies, cracking her knuckles. 

“Aha! Said the Supergirl look alike!” Deadpool retorts.

“That’s what Tony said, not me,” she says, smiling. 

{I like this lady.}

“Same. But it’s a shame since I’m going to shoot her in the kneecaps,” Deadpool says, taking out his pistols. 

“Wait!” Tony shouts from behind, making a stop motion with his hand. “Let him go!” Tony drops his hand and struggles to catch his breath. The two super humans look at Tony in equal bewilderment; Deadpool lowers his pistols and Carol (Captain Marvel) lowers her fists. 

“Why?” Carol asks, flipping her hair back and frowning. 

“He...he wants to help..wants to rescue Cap’n,” Tony says, gasping. After a few moments he gets his breath back. “Also the guy is immortal so it would just be wasting time trying to fight him.” 

“Yeah! What he said!” 

Carol looks a little disappointed but glides to the side, in mid air. Deadpool carefully walks past her then turns around, saluting Tony. Tony makes a shoo shoo motion and stands up straight. 

“Thanks, Toni-chan!” Deadpool says, opening the door to the top of the tower. 

The two Avengers watch as he leaves and Tony lets out a big sigh. Carol levitates over to him, her arms crossed in disapproval. “I think there’s another reason why you let him go.” 

Tony gives her a shrug. “To let him prove himself. Spiderman has faith in him from what I’ve heard. And I think I might have been a little too hard on him...who knows?” 

Carol gazes at the door and nods, looking like she is in deep thought. “Not many people are like that man. A lot of us don’t even try to become better versions of ourselves. Even with his problems he’s still trying. I hope one day I’ll get better too; Spiderman still won’t talk to me after what happened with his friend…”

Tony shifts awkwardly in his stance and nods. “That’s some deep stuff, Danvers.” 

“I really wanted to kick his ass, too,” Carol says, huffing. Tony laughs. 

“Don’t we all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long. My laptop charger broke and I couldn't get a new one until now. I have other Spideypool fanfic ideas, so I'll be posting them a little later (separate from this fic). I hope you enjoyed!! Thank you for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if it's not very good, this is my first fanfic I did years ago. I'm okay with constructive criticism. Hope y'all enjoy ^-^


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